


Burnt Heart

by HouseAu3



Series: The Hale Files [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Dresden Files Fusion, F/M, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-06 16:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 48,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3141905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseAu3/pseuds/HouseAu3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles was bored. There was a body in the woods. Scott suddenly had a tattoo he didn't get. They bumped into Derek Hale in the woods.<br/>Yeah, that's about how things started, and Stiles' life was never the same after that.</p><p>A Teen Wolf story set in Dresden Verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Triskelion

**Author's Note:**

> This is the product of reading too much fanfic and thinking too much because my finals are coming and I'm stressed. Yeah, Stress writing is a thing.  
> Why my brain had to make up this massive AU I would never know. My English isn't even good enough to handle a smaller story, but I just have to get this out of my head. I'm sorry for any mistakes or weird use of words in this. I'm trying.
> 
> I've read all the Dresden books up until Changes, but it's been a while. I'm pretty sure there's a lot of inconsistencies with the canon setting. I've tried to get it right, but I've also taken some liberties for story purpose. As for the Teen Wolf part, the time and age inconsistencies in canon are driving me crazy, so I just ignored them all and made my own timeline.
> 
> Unbeta'd because I have no friend.  
> Update: Beta by [Lana Baker.](http://lanalucy.livejournal.com/) I really can't thank her enough.

It’s kind of sad that he only hangs out with Scott on Friday nights.

Don't get him wrong, he loves Scott with all his heart, but it's still kind of pathetic neither of them have people to date or parties to go to. They are at the lowest low in the game called high school politics.

They are currently hanging upside down from the roof, because Stiles is bored, and when he's bored, he gets curious about the most ridiculous things. He's trying to find out if forcing blood into his brain will make him temporarily smarter, and if that will affect the blood going to his dick when he masturbates.

He might not have thought this through since they’re outside, and there's no way Stiles is gonna pull his dick out where all his neighbors can see him. His dad will ground him for the rest of his life, and worse, Have a Talk With Him.

Listening to his dad explaining what an erection was and what to do with it had been traumatic enough for a twelve years old Stiles. He really doesn't want to endure another Talk until he’s actually had a chance of getting rid of his v-card.

He eventually gets bored hanging upside down. He takes out his phone to tap into the police radio. (No, Dad, it's actually legal here. I've checked. Isn't that kind of weird? That anyone with a phone or a computer can listen to you guys? How do you even catch bad guys? Are you that fast or are the criminals here just not advanced enough to own smartphones?)

There's a body in the woods.

It probably isn't something Stiles should get excited about, but damn it, he's bored out of his mind, and he’s never claimed to be a nice person. He drops down to the ground - okay, he flails and falls on his butt, that's not the point - and drags Scott down with him. Scott yelps and falls onto him, elbowing him in the gut trying to get up.

"Dude, let's go!" Stiles pushes himself up and stumbles off the porch.

"Your dad's gonna ground you again," Scott sighs, but he follows anyway.

They get to the woods, hiding behind the trees as they watch the police work. It takes his dad about five minutes to notice him. It's his new personal high.

"Stiles," his dad sighs exasperatedly. "How many times do I have to ground you before you learn to stay away from crime scenes?"

"I'm just curious," Stiles grumbles. His dad gives him a hard look.

"A woman is dead. It's not something you should take so lightly. This isn't a TV show."

Stiles holds up his hand. "All right, I get it."

"Why do I get the feeling I'll still see you poking around in the future?"

"Because you know your son well?" Stiles gives his dad a cheeky grin. His dad smacks the back of his head lightly and grabs his arm.

"Come on, I'm done here. Let's go home."

"That's excessive force! Police brutality!" Stiles exclaims teasingly. Then a big hand covers his mouth, muffling the rest of his words before they come out, and he’s being dragged to the car with gentle force.

He doesn't remember he’s left Scott in the woods until he gets home. But he isn't too worried about that. They’ve been playing in the woods since they were little kids. It was their own adventure time. Sure there’s a body in the woods, but it isn't as if the killer will dare show up when there is a whole squad of officers hanging around. So he gets home, gets into his bed, and sleeps. It's just a typical Friday for him.

The next day Scott comes to his house earlier than usual. As soon as he gets in the door he grabs Stiles and drags him upstairs, taking off his t-shirt as soon as they get into his room.

"Dude, I'm really flattered, but I think of you as a brother, and I'm not really into the whole incest thing."

Scott chokes. "What? That's not - " He shakes his head and turns around, facing Stiles. "Look." He points at his chest. 

There's a freaking tattoo below his collar bones. "Hey! Why didn't you tell me you were gonna get a tattoo?" Stiles rushes to his side and pokes at the intricate black spirals. "We're supposed to get matching ones on our eighteenth birthdays! We swore on my batman figure when we were ten!"

"I didn't get one!" Scott says hysterically. "It just appeared! Oh my god, how am I supposed to hide this from my mom? She'll kill me."

"Nah man, my dad’ll stop her. He wouldn't want her to go to jail," Stiles responds easily. "And what did you mean 'just appeared'? That's not how tattoos work."

"I don't know. Yesterday I just passed out in the woods for like two minutes. And when I got home this was already here."

"Um, you passed out?" Stiles throws him a guilty glance. Maybe he shouldn't have left Scott alone.

"Yeah, I don't really remember. Why?" Scott flops down onto his bed. "It's like, one moment I was walking, and the next thing I know I was lying on the ground."

"Weird." He pokes at the tattoo. It's... warm. Not just warm because it's Scott's chest he's touching, but warm as in radiating heat. "What the fuck?" Stiles asks. This is beyond weird. This is supernaturally weird.

"It was like that when I was sleeping as well," Scott says. "And there's like, a ball of energy? I don't know how to explain it."

"A ball of energy."

"A concentration of heat?"

Stiles stares at him incredulously. "What, is this the mark of The Outsider? Can you blink us to the rooftop now?"

“I don’t think so?”

“Huh.”

Stiles takes out his phone and takes a picture of Scott’s tattoo. Scott lifts his eyes to look at him. “Are you going to blackmail me with that?”

Stiles snorts. “Someday, maybe.”

He flips his laptop open and plugs his phone in. It doesn’t take him long to find the symbol.

“It’s a triskelion. Celtic. There are a whole bunch of different interpretations but basically it means some kind of trinity,” Stiles starts to explain. He doubts Scott is actually listening, but he likes to do research and talk about what he’s just learned. “You know, Father, Son, Holy Spirit; Spirit, Mind, Body; Past, Present, Future; Creator, Destroyer, Sustainer. That kind of thing.”

Scott makes a noncommittal noise.

“Not sure why anyone would want to put that on you. I can’t find any cult using that symbol, and there’s no homicide case related to the symbol, at least I can’t find one.”

“That’s reassuring?”

Stiles turns to look at him. “You were in a crime scene when you got that weird tattoo. It seems too much of a coincidence.”

Scott sits up and scratches the skin around the triskelion. “It’s not doing anything to me though.”

“I’m just preparing for the worst, man.” Stiles shrugs. “You said you passed out only for a couple minutes. Even if you couldn’t feel anything, it still should have taken a lot longer to ink that. It’s not a normal tattoo.”

“I’m still more worried that my mom will see it,” Scott grumbles. “She will kill me before it does. This can wait.”

*

They’re in the woods looking for Scott’s inhaler. It’s not exactly easy to find a thing so small in a place this big. Scott’s pretty sure it fell out of his pocket when he passed out yesterday. That narrows it down a bit, but they still have trouble finding it.

“You sure it’s here?” Stiles yells for the fifth time.

“Yes,” Scott yells back. “It’s the tree you tried to climb and ended up breaking your arm.”

“Why do people only remember when I embarrass myself?” Stiles grumbles, kicking the fallen leaves away. A pair of unfamiliar boots step into his sight.

“This is private property,” the owner of the boots growls. Stiles yelps and falls on his ass.

“Fuck, dude, warn a guy.” He looks up and see a supernaturally attractive face. The attractive face is scowling, beautiful eyes shooting daggers at him. He looks familiar. Really familiar. Stiles can’t quite pinpoint just where he’s seen this face before.

Scary Attractive Guy looms over him. “State your business,” he demands. Stiles gulps and pushes himself up.

“Chill, man, we were just looking for something,” Stiles says and put on a harmless smile. Actually, he always looks pretty harmless. He sure as hell never looks intimidating. “My friend has asthma and he really needs his inhaler back.”

“Stiles?” Scott finally notices his absence and comes to find him. Stiles waves his whole arm at him.

“That’s the one,” Stiles says to Scary Attractive Guy. He hears a gasp and Scary Attractive Guy’s face changes.

Stiles turns and sees Scott collapsing onto the ground.

Stiles rushes to his side and helps him sit up. SAG kneels down beside him, takes an inhaler out of his pocket and silently shoves it into Stiles’ hand. Scott shakes his head and croaks, “Not - asthma.”

“What are you -” Stiles put the mouthpiece into his mouth. Scott shakes his head again, clutching the collar of his shirt.

Oh.

Stiles helps him take his shirt off. The tattoo on his chest is glowing red and the skin around it looks burnt. At his side SAG curses under his breath and abruptly stands up. “Follow me. I can help him.”

“What?” Stiles asks, but SAG has already turned away and starts walking. “Fuck.” Stiles pulls Scott up. He doesn’t really have another choice, does he? SAG clearly recognizes the tattoo.

They follow SAG though the woods. He leads them to a burnt-out house. A fucking burnt-out house in the woods. This looks like the start of a cheesy horror movie.

“Leave him to me,” SAG says.

“No way man,” Stiles protests. “I won’t leave him.”

SAG crosses his arms and taps his foot on the floor. “So you would rather he dies.”

Stiles glares at him. How dare he suggest - “That’s exactly why I won’t leave him. Who knows what you’ll do to him.”

“I don’t have to help him, you know,” SAG says. Stiles shakes his head and laughs harshly.

“Oh, no, you have to help him. You recognize the tattoo but you don’t know how it got there. You won’t get any answers unless you help him.”

SAG takes a step toward him. Stiles stands his ground and stares straight at him. SAG quickly looks away.

Stiles frowns. It should be a sign of backing off, but the man looks anything but that.

“Look, I just need to make sure, okay?” Stiles says. SAG doesn’t respond. He just walks through the doorless door frame and waits. Stiles looks at him cautiously and helps Scott get to the door. SAG gestures for him to lay Scott on the floor. He carefully lowers Scott down.

And SAG pushes him out.

“The fuck -” Stiles scrambles to the entrance but he can’t get in. There’s an invisible force stopping him from entering. “You fucking bastard! What are you going to -”

“I’m helping him,” comes the calm response. 

Stiles tries to push in again, but the harder he tries, the harder he’s pushed back. “Then why are you hiding?” Stiles shouts. “Why the secrecy?”

“I don’t trust you,” the asshole says. Stiles can feel his blood pumping as his anger boils up. Don’t trust him? He has the audacity to say he doesn’t trust Stiles?

“That’s my line!” Stiles flings himself against the invisible wall. It knocks him back onto the ground.

“Stop it. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

Stiles lets out a frustrated noise and leans against the air wall, trying to look inside, but he can’t see anyone. The inside of the house looks empty. “Five minutes. I’m going to call the cops if I don’t see him in five minutes.”

Bastard doesn’t even bother to answer him this time.

Stiles can feel his heart quickening, his chest tightening. He closes his eyes, trying to calm himself, but all he can see is Scott’s pained face. No, no, he can’t do this right now. He can have a panic attack later. Right now he needs to stay focused.

Wait, he recognizes this house.

“You’re Derek Hale,” he murmurs. He was still a kid when the fire happened, but he remembers his dad mulling over the case again and again. His dad didn’t believe it was an accident. He still doesn’t.

“You know, my dad’s always worried about you. He always wonders where you went and how you’re doing. He’ll blame himself for not doing more if he sees how much of an asshole you are now.”

“Where's your sister anyway? Did she finally have enough of your douchiness and leave you? Why are you even back in this house? Are you that much of a masochist that you get off on wallowing in pain and agony?"

He regrets it the moment he says it. It's too much. Yeah that guy's being a Grade A asshole, but this, no one deserves to have his pain used as a weapon against him. It's a whole other level of douchiness. It's malicious.

"Look, I didn't mean to say that," Stiles begins. "My mouth runs off on its own when I'm anxious."

No reaction. No reply. Stiles can start to feel his stomach twist up again. What's happening? What is Hale doing? What is he thinking?

It feels like an eternity, waiting outside. It feels like not being able to do anything except tremble when the doctors were trying to resuscitate his mom. It feels like waiting for the inevitable to happen, for the other shoe to drop, for him to finally lose someone he loves again.

He wonders what would be more painful, to lose everyone all at once, or to lose them one by one. He wonders if it would have been easier to suddenly lose his mom to a quick death instead of losing her slowly. He wonders if it was really better to have the chance to say goodbye.

He doesn't realize he's shaking until an arm drapes over his shoulder, pulling him in. He opens his eyes and sees Scott giving him a warm and reassuring smile. "I'm all right now. Don't worry."

Stiles nods, rubs his eyes, and pulls away. Hale is leaning against the door frame, watching them with wary eyes. At that moment Stiles decides that he hates him. Hates him for having seen him weak. Hates him for causing it.

He gives him a stilted thank you, and Hale looks so fucking surprised.

"What? I can be civil when I want to," he says flippantly. "Unlike someone," he adds. Scott nudges his arm pointedly.

Hale huffs and walks back into the house. Stiles stares at his back until he disappears. "What did he do?" Stiles asks.

Scott shrugs and pulls his shirt up. The triskelion is now surrounded by a series of red intersected lines. The triskelion itself has gone back to the original black.

"I couldn't see very clearly until he did this and the pain went away, but I think he just doodled on me with his finger?" Scott pulls his shirt back down. “No idea why that helps. He didn’t explain anything to me either.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Stiles asks. “No nausea, cramping, or wanting to pee more often than usual?”

“I’m not pregnant, Stiles.” Scott says, rolling his eyes. Stiles scrunches up his nose.

“Ew, don’t give me the mental image,” Stiles says, and he adds for good measure, “But hey, if you really were pregnant, I would support you a hundred percent. You would be an awesome mom.”

Scott shakes his head and laughs. “Thanks, I guess.”

Stiles grins at him. He’s feeling much more relaxed now. Scott seems to be doing fine, and there’s no drastic change to his personality or anything. But they still know nothing about what _has_ happened and what _might_ happen.

And why is Derek Hale here? What does he know about the tattoo? What the fuck is he?

Stiles sighs. He'd really like things to start making sense now.

“I’ll try to dig something up. I still think it might have something to do with the murder.”

Scott hip checks him. “Don’t stress yourself out, man.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll try.” Stiles shrugs. “Come on, let’s go now. Who knows what else is in the woods.”

His dad is in the kitchen when he gets home. Stiles kicks his sneakers off, walks to the counter, and takes a seat.

“Hey dad, know anything about Derek Hale?”

His dad turns to look at him with wary eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” Stiles shrugs. “Saw him around the preserve today.”

His dad stays silent for a moment. “Don’t bother him.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. That's new. “I’m not bothering him.”

“He’s going through a hard time, Stiles,” his dad says. “Never thought I would see him again in this kind of situation.”

Stiles gives him a confused look. His dad sighs. “He came to us yesterday looking for his sister. We had him identify the body. It wasn’t pretty.”

Oh. _Oh_ , that - changes a lot of things. He kind of apologized for his asshole remarks, but Derek Hale still should have brained him, and Stiles would have let him. Hell, he would have brained himself.

“Huh.” Stiles says to no one in particular. His dad looks over at him and exhales a long suffering sigh.

“Stiles, what have you done?”

“Nothing!”

His dad gives him an unimpressed look.

Stiles deflates and hits his forehead against the counter. “I may have said something that might really have hurt him.”

“Why?”

Stiles lifts his face and rests his chin on the surface. His dad waits for him patiently.

“Scott had an asthma attack in the preserve,” Stiles starts, trying to leave out the truth that’ll make him sound like a lunatic. “Hale said he could help Scott. We got Scott into his house, but then he kicked me out and wouldn’t let me see what he was doing to Scott.”

His dad gives him a questioning look. Stiles shakes his head. “I don’t know why either.”

“So you panicked,” his dad says. Stiles nods.

“And I started yelling at him. I was… harsh.”

His dad grimaces. He would know how harsh Stiles can be. He’s been the one on the receiving end a couple of times, and Stiles still feels guilty about how much he’s hurt his dad.

His dad sighs and sits down next to him.

“How’s Scott?”

“Seems fine. Whatever he did seems to have worked,” Stiles says, turning his face toward his dad, the counter cool against his cheek.

“Good.” His dad squeezes his shoulder. “It’s good to care about your friend, Stiles, but other people are people too.”

Stiles smiles at him wryly. “Imagine what you would do if you were me and I were Scott.”

His dad looks up briefly and quirks his lips. “Yeah, it would be worse.”

Stiles chuckles softly. Overprotective. It’s in their genes.

“All right, try not to do it again, okay?” the sheriff says seriously.

Stiles nods. “Have you found out anything about his sister’s death?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Okay,” Stiles says easily. His dad raises his eyebrow.

“Just like that?”

“What?” Stiles gives him an offended look. “I do learn.”

“Uh-huh.” His dad looks at him dubiously, but doesn’t push. Instead, he gets off the chair and pulls his phone out. “All right, what do you want for dinner?”

Stiles narrows his eyes at him. “Wait, you’ve eaten already.”

A pause. “Yeah.”

“You have red sauce on your face,” Stiles says. There isn’t, but his dad wipes his mouth reflexively, and proceeds to look at the ceiling in a “why do I always fall for your stupid trick” way.

“Dad!” Stiles points an accusing finger at him. “Really? Frozen pizza?”

“There’s red peppers on them.”

“And pepperoni! And cheese! And it’s frozen!” Stiles jumps out of the chair and marches to the refrigerator. “I’m making you a salad, without meat.”

“Stiles -” his dad whines. Whines. No one would believe him if he told them Sheriff Stilinski whines when his son makes him eat his veggies.

“Oh, no, you are not getting away with that,” Stiles says fiercely and bends down to take the vegetables out. His dad sighs, defeated.

Stiles starts making the salad. He does add some smoked salmon though, because he isn’t really that cruel. It doesn’t take long. He pushes the bowl in front of his dad and takes out the rest of the frozen pizza for himself.

“That’s unfair,” his dad grumbles.

“I’m sixteen. You’re not,” Stiles says. His dad shoves the fork into the salad, shoves it into his mouth, and makes a face.

“Come on, it’s not that terrible. Mrs. McCall loves my salad.” Stiles puts the frozen pizza into the oven. This is gonna be a torture for his dad. And it will be hilarious.

“Melissa doesn’t understand what good food is.”

“She’s a nurse,” Stiles reminds him, not that he needs reminding.

His dad shakes his head with a serious look on his face. “She knows what’s healthy for the body. She doesn’t know what’s healthy for the soul.”

Stiles laughs. He does agree with his dad on that. Scott can never get any junk food when his mom’s around.

“Eat your salad. My pizza’s almost ready.”

His dad groans. “You’re a terrible son.”

“You love me anyway.” Stiles winks at him.

They eat. Stiles talks about his classes and Scott. His dad complains about his food and Stiles. It feels nice and normal, which is exactly what Stiles needs. It’s been a crazy day.

After dinner Stiles goes to his room and opens his laptop. He starts by googling the Hale fire. There’s nothing he doesn’t already know, but he does get the sister’s name, Laura Hale. Then he tries googling Derek Hale. Nothing other than the fire. There’s no trace whatsoever of his life for the past eight years. He’s either a hermit or he’s living under another name.

Surprisingly, Laura’s on Facebook.

The account was created five years ago. She was a sophomore at that time. She didn’t mention anything about her past. She did mention having a grumpy brother with a picture of Hale - it’s confusing to keep calling him Hale in his head. They’ve sort of fought and Stiles has yelled at him already. He figures they’re on first name basis now. - Derek scowling at the camera. Stiles saves the picture and sends it to himself.

She looks a lot like Derek, or rather, Derek looks a lot like her, but she’s smiling in most of her pictures, some of them wistful but most of them genuine. Stiles wonders if Derek used to smile. He wonders if Derek used to smile the way Laura did, fierce and wide, intimidating but beautiful.

Derek doesn’t appear in her pictures much, and he’s always scowling, but they seem close. They spent every major holiday together. Derek even cooked for her on Thanksgivings.

Now Stiles feels like an even bigger asshole.

He face-plants onto his bed and takes his cellphone out. There’s a text message from Scott: _get some sleep srsly_

 _i feel like an ass_ , he replies.

_what y_

_his sis died_

_who_

_derek. who else_

_and?_

_I asked him did his sis leave cause he’s an ass_

_oh_

_ya OH_

_huh he didnt kill u_

_surprise_

_u wanna apologize?_

_idk maybe? how?_

_cookies?_

Stiles rolls his eyes.

_srsly?_

_evry1 luvs cookies_

_he’ll think im laughing at him_

_mayb_

_not helping_

_just say ur srry_

_right. that’ll go well_

_y not_

_he hates me_

_y_

_idk_

_dont worry man. ill go wth u_

_ok. i guess_

_sleep dude_

_k. luv u bro_

_u 2_

Stiles puts his phone down, smiling. It’s ridiculous how Scott always makes everything sounds so easy. He still thinks apologizing to Derek will be a disaster, but it can’t be worse than thinking Scott might die. Few things are worse than that. Derek can break every bone of his and he’ll still think it’s better. Not that he thinks Derek will do that, at least not anymore. He didn’t even punch him when he was saying those things about his family, so obviously Derek has more self-control than Stiles gives him credit for.

Stiles thinks about bringing something. He even thinks about bringing cookies. It’ll make things even more awkward though, he thinks.

He falls asleep thinking about cookies and Derek, and ends up dreaming about Derek making cookies for Laura, which looks kind of hilarious but makes him feel even worse about himself. It’s all Scott’s fault.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how teenagers text. None. I feel like an old man pretending to be young.
> 
> This is going to be a ten chapters story, or at least I think so now. I'll post the next chapter next week if there's no accidents. I've re-written about 30k words it's ridiculous. This story just got out of my control a lot.


	2. Static

Scott falls in love on Monday.

There’s a transfer student. Her name is Allison Argent. She has cheekbones that can cut glass and dimples that can melt hearts. She smiles at the whole class and Stiles swears he can see anime hearts floating around in the air.

Scott is gone, completely gone.

Allison sits down, discovers she somehow forgot to bring a pencil, and Scott lends one to her. Allison dimples at Scott, and Scott beams back. They stare at each other like they are in a rom-com. And then a screeching noise comes out of the speaker, Silent Hill style.

Some boy screams. Some girl runs out. The teacher hides under the podium. Stiles takes out his phone to take video only to discover that his phone is dead, utterly dead. Scott and Allison finally notice the outside world and break eye contact. Scott frowns, and the noise stops.

“What?” Scott asks.

“Beats me,” Stiles says, showing his phone to Scott.

Scott takes his own out. “What?”

One by one, the remaining students in the classroom start checking their phones. All dead except for one Nokia stupidphone. Some have brought laptops to class, and they’re all dead as well. Stiles is so glad he doesn’t have his baby macbook with him.

The class breaks into a heated discussion about what the hell just happened. Some say government conspiracy. Some say solar wind. Some say it’s the end of civilization and they should all be prepared. All hail Nokia. Embrace the stupidphones.

Scott starts telling Allison his own silly speculations, like aliens stealing energy, or the school employing new methods to stop students from using cellphones in class, or the electricity between them disrupting every technology around them. (Smooth, Scott. Real smooth.) It's really not that funny, but Allison starts giggling and Scott starts giggling with her. (Giggling! Stiles is never going to let him live this down.) And the speaker lets out a sharp scream before it dies a premature death.

Stiles’ electric watch has stopped working as well, and he thinks that maybe, maybe Scott’s ‘sort of flirtatious but cheesy as hell’ speculation about their effect on technology isn’t that far off.

They have another class with Allison, and the same thing happens again. Lydia’s with them as well, and she’s pissed. She’s so pissed she walks to the front of the classroom, grabs the microphone from the teacher, finds out the mic doesn’t work anymore, shoves the mic back into the teacher’s hand, and demands everyone give her a complete statement on what they’ve seen since class started.

Stiles knows he fell in love with her for a reason other than her perfect strawberry blonde hair.

The rest of the class passes with them writing their statements and handing them in to Lydia. Stiles carefully leaves out the details he thinks will lead Lydia to the same conclusion as his, which he thinks is basically the truth. He tries to advise Scott to do the same, but he’s too busy admiring Allison’s profile. Whatever, he doubts Scott will write anything coherent down. He’s not sure about Allison, but he can’t just tell her what to write and what not to. It’d be weird. He hopes Lydia won’t be able to piece it together, or she might seriously find a way to separate Scott and Allison forever.

Scott will be miserable if that happens. Stiles is an awesome friend. He’s not going to let that happen.

When the bell rings Lydia storms out of the classroom with the stack of papers, no doubt going to find the truth and a solution. Scott invites Allison to have lunch with them. Stiles considers not being a third wheel and leaving them alone, but he needs more data, so he follows.

It doesn’t surprise him anymore when the lights start flickering. Allison seems to finally notice the pattern. She tilts her head slightly and blinks. “Weird. This happens a lot when we’re together.”

“Yeah,” Scott sighs dreamily, obviously not thinking about anything other than Allison.

Allison smiles indulgently at Scott and turns to Stiles for the first time ever. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know, exceptionally bad luck?” Stiles says. He isn’t entirely sure how Allison will react if he tells what he really thinks. Better cautious than sorry. “Maybe we should buy a lottery ticket.”

“Maybe.” Allison chuckles, and Scott sighs again.

Sometimes he has to admit Scott can be really dumb.

Then Scott says they should get onto the lacrosse team, because Lydia will be there and she has basically adopted Allison as her new best friend, so Allison will be there too. Then he signs Stiles up despite his objections. Then they somehow get onto the team for real. Then they start practicing. Then Jackson Whittemore flirts with both Lydia and Allison, even though he's Lydia's boyfriend.

Seriously, what an asshole.

Apparently Scott thinks so as well, because he’s giving out some very dangerous vibes, so dangerous there’s actual fire coming out of his fingertips and he accidentally sets Stiles’ jersey on fire. Scott panics. More fire comes out. Stiles grabs his hand. The fire magically disappears.

His jersey is still on fire though. He takes it off and throws it onto the ground, accidentally setting the grass on fire.

Finstock’s yelling at them. Stiles and Scott just look at each other and burst out laughing.

They’ll be benchwarmers forever, but Stiles doesn’t particularly care at that moment.

They still need to figure this out though. Stiles has a pretty good theory, but he needs confirmation, and the only one he knows can do that probably hates his guts.

“This might sound weird, but if you don’t want your mom’s car to break down, I need to ride shotgun and hold your hand the whole time.”

Scott gives him a blank look. Poor guy. He doesn’t even know whether he should be confused.

“Trust me.”

Scott nods. This is why Stiles loves and fears for him in equal measure. Scott just has so much faith in people, especially him.

“So, you have a theory?” Scott holds out his hand for Stiles. Stiles takes it easily.

“Yep,” he says.

“Which is?”

“Still a theory. I need more information.”

“Okay,” Scott starts the car and drives out of the parking lot. “I’m not gonna set anyone on fire again, am I?”

“Um, I’m not so sure,” Stiles says. Scott grimaces. He squeezes his hand reassuringly. “Just, come to me if you feel like bursting into rainbows or going berserk. For some reason I seem to be able to stop your outbursts.”

Scott nods. Stiles thinks about what he’s gonna say for a minute. This is going to be awkward.

“And, uh, for the time being I don’t think I can leave you and Allison alone with each other. At this rate you’re gonna fry everything in school by the end of the week.”

Scott pouts and looks at Stiles with sad puppy eyes. Stiles lets out an defeated sigh and throws his hand up. “All right, maybe Derek will have a solution. We’ll ask him. You can direct your puppy power at him. It’s impossible to say no to that.”

Scott beams at him and bumps their shoulders together. Stiles grins back. Scott starts talking about Allison. About her beautiful smile and perfect cheekbones and kind eyes and hypnotizing voice and captivating laughs. Stiles is pretty sure if Scott could write about Allison for their English essay he’d need none of Stiles' help. He never knew Scott knew so many adjectives. His vocabulary when it comes to Allison is kind of astounding.

Scott talks all the way to Derek’s place. Looking at the burnt-out house, Stiles suddenly feels kind of stupid. No one would willingly stay so long where almost all his family has died, would they? But apparently Derek is not anybody. He’s at the front door leaning against the door frame just like he was yesterday. It’s like he’s never moved.

“What do you want,” he demands. Seriously, someone needs to introduce him to question mark. It’s a great way to ask a question instead of just demand an answer.

“I was going to apologize, but Scott has a problem and I’m kinda a temporary solution. We’re hoping you can give us a better answer,” Stiles rushes out. Derek arches an eyebrow at him, which makes him look like a Bond, which is just unfair. Stiles can never make his eyebrow arching look anything but goofy.

“Um, things start dying around me?” Scott explains, and then quickly adds, “Not living things. I mean phones, laptops, that kind of thing.”

“That happens when he feels happy, or let’s say, in love,” Stiles elaborates. Emotions seem to have a great factor in what’s happening. “Fire comes out when he feels angry.”

Derek frowns.

“Is that a ‘this is bad’ frown or ‘are you two on drugs get off my lawn’ frown?” Stiles asks. Derek rolls his eyes at him. Stiles counts it as a win.

“Get in,” he tells Scott, and then turns to Stiles. “Stay out.”

What.

“Jesus I know I’ve said some really fucked up things and I’m really fucking sorry okay? What do I have to do to make you stop hating me?”

Derek looks at him calmly, carefully avoiding his eyes. “It’s not about that.”

Stiles throws his hands out. “Then what is it?”

“I don’t know you. I can’t trust you,” Derek says matter-of-factly.

“But you trust Scott!” Stiles yells. One minute into the conversation and he’s already yelling again. He’s never been short-tempered. Derek’s just pressing all his buttons like he’s playing Flight of the Bumblebee.

“I trust him enough. I can see him,” Derek says.

“What is that even supposed to mean? You can’t see me? I’m a ghost and I don’t know about it and somehow everyone in town can see me but not you?”

Derek shakes his head and sighs. Stiles glares at him. Scott looks between them and stands beside Stiles.

“I don’t know why you don’t trust him, but he stays with me, all right?” Scott says, voice determined. “If you can’t accept that, we’ll just leave you alone. You don't need to help us.”

Which is a more polite way of saying they don't need his help. This is why Scott will always be his best friend.

Derek sighs again. “Swear that you mean me no harm.” He sounds so serious Stiles just has to gape at him.

“How am I even gonna harm you? Dude you’re like a wall of muscles and you can probably fold me in half.” Stiles points at the abs under his henley. The shirt isn't even that tight, but Stiles can still make out the contour of his six-pack. This is just ridiculous. “I’m all skin and bones and wimpy meat. Ask Scott. I can’t even throw a rock at you and make it hurt.”

Derek stares at the sky as if willing him to shut up. It never works. His dad has tried it a million times. “Just do it.”

“Fine!” Stiles holds his right hand up like he's making an Olympic oath. “I solemnly swear I’m not up to no good. I will do Derek fucking Hale no harm except for annoying him to death. Stiles Stilinski 2011.”

Derek gives him a pregnant look. “Not your real Name,” he states. Stiles doesn’t even care how he knows anymore.

“Fine, if you insist. My name is a fricking monstrosity though. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Stiles stares at the ground, mentally preparing himself for what is to come. “I, Garnuszek Apolina -”

“Stop,” Derek interrupts. Stiles narrows his eyes at him.

“What, am I giving you a headache?”

“You shouldn’t give your real Name to just anyone,” Derek says, gesturing for them to come in. “It’s dangerous.”

Scott goes without hesitation. Stiles looks at Derek warily as he walks past the door frame. Derek huffs and shoves him in. At least he's not pushing him out anymore. That's progress.

“I sense that there’s a capital ‘N’ somewhere in that sentence.”

Derek shrugs. “Names have power.” And that’s all the explanation he’s going to give.

“Not that anyone can pronounce my full name, let alone memorize it,” Stiles says as he sits down on the floor beside Scott. There’s nothing in the house except for rubble and burn marks. No sane person should be able to live here. Scratch that. No sane person should stay for more than half an hour.

Seriously.

“Someone might not, but some _thing_ might.” Derek leans against the wall, crossing his arms. Stiles raises his eyebrows at that.

“I’ve pretty much gathered that magic might be real, but what else? Werewolves? Vampires? Faeries? Demons? Angels?”

Derek snorts. “All real.”

“Huh.” Stiles stares dumbly at Derek’s stupid pretty face. He looks reluctantly amused. Stiles didn’t even know that kind of conflicting emotion existed. Who does reluctantly amused?

Scott clears his throat beside him, reminding him of what they’re here for. Funny how he feels like a lifetime has passed.

“So, Scott’s problem. What is it?”

“Magic disrupts modern technology,” Derek says simply.

“You mean I’m magic?” Scott asks. “I wasn’t.”

“Someone shoved some of their magic into you,” Derek says. “You always have the potential. It just jumpstarted it.”

“You mean the triskelion,” Stiles says. Derek’s eyebrows jump up and knit together slightly. For a guy who barely talks, he sure has expressive eyebrows. Maybe it's nature's way of balancing things out. “What? I’ve done my research. Sort of.”

“It enables the spell-caster to tap into the magic stored in you whenever they like,” Derek continues. This might be the most words Stiles has heard him say in a row. “You’re being used like a bank account.”

“That doesn’t sound very… nice,” Scott absently scratches his collarbones. “Um so, how do I stop destroying stuff? And uh, setting things on fire?” Scott throws Stiles a guilty glance. Stiles ruffles his hair to let him know it’s fine.

“Control your emotions.” Derek says it like it’s as simple as turning off a switch. Maybe it is for him. Maybe this is the reason Stiles didn’t get killed yesterday.

Scott, however, is a normal teenager. Normal teenagers aren’t exactly expected to control themselves. “How?”

“Stop feeling so much.”

Stiles face palms. Is he for real?

“Christ, it’s like asking someone to stop feeling hungry. It doesn’t work that way.”

Derek gives him a look that says “why not.” Stiles suddenly feels sorry for him. How is that even healthy? Who’s been teaching him all this? Speaking of which...

“Wait, so you’re all magical?”

Derek blinks at him. “More or less.”

“But Laura has a Facebook page,” Stiles blurts out, and Derek’s face closes up even more. God, he really needs to learn to better control his mouth. It’s gonna get him killed someday.

“Fuck. I’m sorry if that upsets you. I just, I felt bad when I heard about your sister and I really wanted to apologize, plus I think Scott’s tattoo has something to do with the murder, so I started googling both of you and I found her Facebook.”

Stiles stops to catch his breath. Derek furrows his eyebrows and stares at the wall behind them.

“Fine,” he finally says.

“Um,” Stiles responds eloquently.

Derek huffs. “Hers was suppressed. Mine too.”

“So, is it possible to do it to me, too?” Scott asks hopefully.

Derek shakes his head, the muscles around his eyes tightening and his lips pulling into a thin line. He looks… pained.

“Is it impossible or is it bad to do?” Stiles asks quietly. Derek doesn’t answer him. He just continues staring at nothing and rubs the bracelet around his left wrist absently. Bad then. Stiles guesses it might also hurt a lot.

Scott visibly deflates. “So I’ll have to be touching you when I’m with Allison? She’ll think I’m weird. Or worse, she might think I’m her gay best friend! I’m gonna get friendzoned!”

“Hey! It might get me friendzoned as well!”

“Right.”

Stiles punches Scott on the shoulder. Scott smacks his back in response. Derek lets out a loud sigh. They both turn to look at him sheepishly.

“Yeah, so, for some reason his magic disappears when I touch him? Am I like, anti-magic or something?”

Derek cocks his head. “Take his hand.”

Stiles does as he’s told. Derek closes his eyes briefly and opens them again. Something in his expression changes. He darts his eyes around, his breath purposely controlled, like he’s seeing something they can’t see. Stiles wonders if there’s something lingering in this house.

“Think about the things that make you feel too much,” he says to Scott. Scott nods, obviously starts thinking about Allison, and starts grinning like an idiot. Stiles feels something flowing into his body through their joined hands. He feels warm, adored, and loved, which is just plain weird.

“That’s… I’ve never seen anything like that,” Derek murmurs. He sounds out of breath, fascinated, like he just discovered a new galaxy. Stiles can almost feel his blood rushing into his face. He blames Scott and the sappy emotion he’s feeding him.

“I’ll need to look it up.” Derek says to himself, and then he points at the door, looking at them.

“Wait, no, isn’t there any way to help him?” Stiles puts his hands on both sides of Scott’s head and directs his face at Derek. “Look at him. Don’t make the puppy sad.”

Scott lowers his chin and looks up at Derek with wide eyes. Derek slaps a hand on his eyes and rubs roughly.

“Please?” Scott asks. “I really like Allison.”

“Teenagers.” Derek sighs and walks to the centre of the living room. “You can make a circle.”

“How?”

Derek, obviously deciding that action speaks louder than words, takes a piece of chalk out of his pocket and squats down to draw a perfect circle around himself. Seriously, that circle is perfect. Stiles can’t even draw a circle that perfect with a compass.

“Witchcraft! How do you even - dude, you are like a human compass.”

“Don’t call me dude,” Derek says and rolls his eyes, but his mouth quirks up a little. Stiles proceeds to gape at the little twitch of his mouth.

“What,” Derek demands, annoyed. Stiles shakes his head.

“Nuh, just distracted.”

Derek raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t push; he probably doesn’t think it’s worth pushing for. He turns to Scott. “Drop your blood on the circle, focus on it, and imagine a wall going up.”

Scott looks at Stiles with uncertainty and excitement. Stiles gives him an encouraging smile. “You can do it, bro.”

Scott nods and steps into the drawn circle. Derek passes him a small knife. Scott takes it, pushes his thumb at the tip to draw blood, and drops it on the line.

Something… snaps into existence in the air.

“Dude!” Scott gives him a face-splitting grin. His excitement is so strong Stiles can almost feel it. Actually, Stiles is pretty sure he’s literally seeing it now. There’s a web of blue static coming out of Scott, but it stops when it reaches the invisible wall of the circle.

“Oh, so it can keep the magic in.” Stiles looks at the somethingness he can’t see with wide eyes. Behind Scott, Derek is rubbing his face tiredly.

“He still needs to control himself.”

Stiles has to agree. Seeing electricity or fire coming out of someone will still freak everybody out even if there’s a circle to trap it. “Yeah, you’re right. This is still neat though.”

He walks to the edge of the circle, raises his hand and reaches through. He can’t feel anything, but the air inside seems… more stable somehow.

“Fascinating,” Derek breathes. Stiles looks up at him and bursts out laughing.

“Oh my god, you’re getting all Spock at me,” Stiles wheezes. “You need to trim your eyebrow to get the full effect. You’ve already got the angle right.”

Derek’s face does a very complicated thing. His brows furrows, but his eyes relax. His mouth tightens, but the corners of his lips quirk up a millimeter. Stiles is pretty sure Derek’s biting back a smile or even laughter, but he still manages to look slightly annoyed.

“What’s so weird though? Should I be electrocuted or something?” Stiles asks. Derek shakes his head and simply walks out of the circle. Stiles can feel the air shake slightly before him.

“Oh. So that should happen. Why didn’t it happen when I did that?”

“What?” Scott looks confused. Stiles puts his arm around his shoulder.

“Physical disturbance breaks circles, right?” Stiles looks to Derek. Derek nods. “Your front ‘door’ is different.” Stiles says it with an air quote.

“Wards.” Derek says. “You are… magic friendly.”

“Thank you? But what?”

“Like a cat. You can walk through circles without disturbing them.”

Stiles thinks it over. It sounds useful? Weird? So he’s not anti-magic but way too for-magic? Magic just flows into him and flows through him? What does that even mean? Is he like, a werecat or something? Or a catman? Is that even a thing?

Stiles doesn’t realize he’s saying everything out loud until Derek huffs, but he looks thoughtful, which, what? Does that mean he think it’s possible? Do werecats really exist? Scott laughs but looks even more confused. Stiles can relate.

“Weird,” Stiles grumbles. ”Now I just have even more questions.”

“At least we know how not to blow up everything now.” Scott grins widely. “And I can be with Allison alone now.”

“You still need to draw a circle and drop blood on it,” Stiles reminds him, because Scott definitely hasn’t thought about that. “Maybe you can convince her you’re a wiccan and the circle is for good luck or something. She might even agree to dance naked under the moon with you. It’d be a pretty memorable first date.”

Scott chokes and smacks his back. Derek snorts and shakes his head with a hint of smile on his face. Stiles feels like he’s accomplished something.

“All righty, problem solved. Sort of.” Stiles looks at Derek and gives him a genuine smile. “Thank you.”

Derek looks even more surprised this time. Seriously, what kind of people has he been dealing with? Nobody should look this surprised when he’s being thanked. Stiles suddenly has the urge to bake him a shit load of cookies. It’ll make him feel less guilty as well. Two birds one stone.

“Yeah, thanks.” Scott grins at him. “We should get going though. I need to go pick up my mom.”

Derek nods at them, watching them as they walk out of the house. Stiles turns to look at him before he walks out. He looks like he wants to say something. Stiles gives him a questioning look.

“Wait,” Derek says and walks toward them.

“Yeah?” Stiles prompts. Derek takes a necklace off his neck and shoves it into Stiles’ hand.

“Keep it on,” he says.

Stiles blinks. “What for?”

“Protection.”

“Uh, against what?”

“Possession.”

“Oh. That… would be bad.” Stiles looks at the necklace in his hand. The round pendant is made of some kind of metal with a bunch of symbols etched on it. It’s heavier than it looks and warmer than it should be. Stiles puts it on awkwardly. “Does this have something to do with being magic-friendly?”

Derek nods. That’s unsettling, to say the least.

“Um, how much do I owe you?”

Derek shakes his head. Stiles frowns at him.

“No way man. I can’t just take your stuff and not give you something back.”

Derek frowns back at him. “You are not a faerie.”

“What? Is that some kind of euphemism?”

Derek shoots him a withering look. “It’s iron. It hurts the fae.”

“So? What makes you think I should be one?”

“Only faeries are compelled to give things of equal value back when they accept something,” Derek says levelly. Stiles just has to sigh. He doesn’t even know where to start. This is just wrong on so many levels. He doesn’t know what faeries are like because obviously he has never met one, but what kind of human beings has Derek been in contact with?

“Oh my god, you are ridiculous. People say thanks when people do nice things for them okay?” he tries to explain. He is in no way the perfect example of human kindness, but he’s at least a decent human being. “Is it so hard to believe I just want to give something in return to thank you?”

Derek’s frown gets even deeper. “You’re doing me a favor by wearing it. Possession is tricky.”

Stiles lets out a frustrated groan. Scott makes a sympathetic noise behind him. Glad to know for sure Derek’s the insane one here. Scott’s the prime example of human kindness.

“Fine! I’ll just think of something myself!” Stiles rubs his face roughly. “I’ll have to warn you though. I’m known to have unorthodox taste and to give unconventional gifts.”

“It’s true,” Scott agrees. “He gave me a handmade mustache cup last year.”

“Just you wait, Derek Hale,” Stiles threatens and pulls Scott along with him, leaving a confused and annoyed Derek behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrow the name Garnuszek from the awesome and adorable fic Babcia Knows Best by thepsychicclam. It's little pot in Polish, which is awesome and adorable and actually fits my need perfectly, so I sort of ignore the fact that it's not really used as a name.
> 
> And I'm currently rewriting the latter half of this fic. Jesus fuck why does this keep happening. This story will be the death of me.


	3. Wounds

Stiles isn’t sure whether or not he should feel lucky when the first big clue to his growing list of questions comes as the body of a bus driver.

Garrison Myers had been found dead in the bus last night. Stiles doesn’t know the details, but he overheard a couple deputies talking about the possibility of a serial killer. It’s obvious they were talking about Laura’s death. Sounds like there’s a consistent M.O.

Myers had been an insurance investigator, suspected of fraud for ruling the Hale house fire accidental. It’s too much of a coincidence. There has to be a connection between the two. A revenge plot, maybe? But why would someone who wants revenge for the Hales kill Laura? And from what he’s heard, Derek seems to be the only standing Hale in California right now. It’s not a notion he’d like to entertain. Despite their awful first meeting, Stiles really doesn’t think Derek’s a bad person. He’s just terrible at showing he’s not.

There must be something he’s missed. A lover? Someone survived who was thought to be dead? A dispute between the perpetrators?

Scott’s off “studying” with Allison in the library. Stiles has no idea how he even makes a circle in the library without being thrown out. The power of puppy eyes, probably. He has no doubt that Scott would get zero studying done as long as he’s with Allison.

Stiles decides he’s going to swing by the station and see what more information he can gather. He’s just driving out of the school parking lot when someone knocks on the window.

It’s Derek, wearing a black leather coat that makes him look like the protagonist in a film noir.

He rolls down the window on the passenger side. “Yeah?”

Derek doesn’t answer. He just reaches into the car, unlocks the door, and gets in before Stiles can protest.

“What do you -” Stiles starts. Derek grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks him closer. Stiles’ brain short-circuits for a couple seconds at the close-up of Derek’s face. The dude has seriously beautiful eyes. What even is that color? He’s still avoiding eye-contact though. Stiles suspects it might be a supernatural thing.

“What have you done?” Derek says through clenched teeth. He looks pissed. Surprisingly, it’s actually the first time Stiles has seen him look truly angry.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles shakes his head in confusion. Derek growls and pushes him against the door. His head bumps into the window.

“Ow, jesus, what the fuck? Let go man. I have no fucking clue what is going on here.” Stiles tries to push Derek away, but Derek doesn’t budge at all. He reaches up and puts three fingers on the side of Stiles’ neck. Stiles gapes at him. “Are you feeling my pulse now? Seriously?”

Derek scowls. “It’s too quick. You’re nervous.”

Stiles flails his arms around. “Of course I’m nervous! You look like you want to kill me! And I’m on Adderall, my heartbeat is always crazy!”

Derek stares at somewhere near his eyes. “They found Laura’s heart in my sink.”

“Jesus,” Stiles breathes. That’s fucked up. That’s seriously fucked up. But why is Derek telling him - “Oh my fucking god! You think I did it? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“There’s no one else -” Derek begins, his voice trembling like he’s barely holding himself together. “Only my family can go through the ward. You are the only one I let in. It can’t be your friend. It has to be you.”

And it hurts. Oh it hurts. Stiles can feel his own anger boiling. He glares at Derek. “Fuck you! What’s your problem with me? What have I done that makes you think everything bad in your life is my damn fault? Do you honestly think I was running around with your sister’s heart in my pocket?”

Derek tightens his grip like it’s the only thing stopping him from falling apart. “Who else could it be,” he says coldly. 

Stiles lets out a harsh laugh. “Oh, I don’t know, your other family member?”

“There’s no one left!” Derek yells, and everything happens all at once.

His jeep splutters and dies. The bracelet on Derek’s wrist glows violently. Derek’s leather coat is on fire. And Derek cries out in pain, holding his wrist as blood trickles down his arm.

“Fuck,” Stiles curses and reaches out for Derek, who flinches and throws himself out the door. Stiles jumps out of the car and gets to the other side. Derek’s curling into himself on the ground, breath shallow and quickening, his left arm covered in blood.

Stiles kneels down next to him and grabs Derek’s arm forcefully. He almost blacks out when the pain and emotions hit him.

His rage is deafening. He’s angry at the world. He’s angry at whoever killed his family. Most of all, he’s angry at himself. He wants to destroy the world until there’s only ashes. He wants to rip her chest open and crush her heart. But he also wants to burn himself alive.

His sorrow is overwhelming. He has lost everything. Every death is a weight on his feet, stopping him from going on. He wants to give up. He wants to stop trying. He doesn’t have anything to live for.

His guilt is unbearably heavy. He blames himself for everything. No matter how he accuses and blames others, he always blames himself the most.

And the pain. That bracelet is torturing him. The sharp pain shoots from his wrist through his entire body. It makes his muscles contract, his chest tighten, his heart seize up. Every cell in his body is screaming and it’s loud, too fucking loud. He can’t think. He only knows it’s bad, it is somehow his fault, that he brings this on himself.

Stiles doesn’t realize he’s crying until Derek breaks his grip and everything goes silent.

“Swear it’s not you,” Derek says quietly. He looks so lost and vulnerable at that moment, it breaks Stiles’ heart despite everything and makes him cry even harder. All those emotions mixed with his own - it’s confusing and terrifying.

Stiles tries to stop his sobbing. He tries to steady his breath. It’s hard. He hasn’t felt this out of control for a long time. 

Derek grabs both of his shoulders and lets out a shuddering breath. “Please,” he whispers. “I need to hear it.”

Stiles stops sobbing with a hiccup. 

“I, Garnuszek Apolinary Szczęsny Przemysław Stilinski, swear I have never done anything to hurt you except for the first time we met and I used your grief against you. That was a dick move and I’m really fucking sorry.” He takes Derek’s left hand and inspects it. The bleeding has stopped. The pain coming from him is less severe now, and his emotion is quieter. “I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t ever want to hurt you. I still might annoy you a whole lot, that I can’t help, but I swear I never wish you harm.”

He feels something in him knot up. It feels like more than a simple promise. It feels like an oath.

“Still shouldn’t give me your Name,” Derek whispers, his breath warm against Stiles’ cheek.

“I don’t fucking care, dude,” Stiles murmurs.

“Don’t call me dude.”

Stiles laughs quietly. “So not the point.”

Suddenly the air trembles and Derek pushes him away, running into the alley. Stiles curses, pushes himself up and runs after him.

The air splits up. A man and a woman walk out. Stiles frowns and hides behind the trash cart.

“Well, what have we here? You did grow into your ears rather nicely,” the woman drawls. Derek tenses up but doesn’t turn to face them.

“You have violated your probation again, Derek Hale,” the man says, voice crisp. “I can’t give you another chance.”

Derek chokes out a broken laugh. “You never show up when there’s a real threat, do you?”

The man pulls out a sword - a giant fucking sword - and points it at Derek. Stiles can’t stand by and watch anymore. He stands up and whistles. “Shit, that looks real. No civilian should be in possession of fucking Excalibur.”

The man swirls around and points the sword at him. Stiles holds up both of his hands in the air. “Watch it, man. I’m kind of attached to my head.”

Derek has turned around to face them. He’s staring at Stiles, silently telling him to go away. Stiles shakes his head. No chance. He’s not going to let them take him, especially since they’re probably the ones who put the goddamn bracelet on him. He’s not sure how much of what he’s feeling is the influence of what just happened, but he feels compelled to defend Derek, even though he has nothing but his words.

“This is none of your business, kid. Go home,” the woman sneers. Her eyes are calculating and cold. She’s dangerous, Stiles decides. She’s more dangerous than the man with the giant sword.

“Nah, I think I’ll stay here and see what you’re gonna do to my friend Derek here. Be a good Samaritan, you know.” Stiles gives them a cheeky grin. He’s been told it’s infuriating.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into. He’s dangerous,” the man says. “Don’t get involved.”

Stiles snorts. “Right now I see two people, at least one of them armed, threatening a young man who’s been tortured since he was a teenager. Forgive me if I don’t see how he’s the dangerous one.”

“You know nothing,” the man scolds.

Stiles huffs. “I know enough.” He walks past the man to stand beside Derek, the man following his move with his sword all the way. Derek gives him a disapproving look. Stiles punches his shoulder lightly.

“I know someone set his house on fire eight years ago and covered it up. I know your people put this bracelet on him to suppress his magic. You make him suffer every time he feels anything strongly. You don’t care if it’s positive or negative. You don’t care if his brain decides not to feel anything again. You don’t care that you’re stripping away the very thing that makes him human.” Stiles can feel Derek tense up beside him. He reaches out to grab his wrist. He can feel a little trace of fear. Derek doesn’t pull back.

“Granted, I don’t know what he’s done to warrant a probation, but this is a guy who set himself on fire when he lost control. The only one in danger here is himself. You are the law enforcement in a magical world. Fucking act like it and go find Laura Hale’s murderer. Don’t waste time hurting someone who never deserved it.”

The man stares at him, unblinking. His hand remains perfectly steady.

“You tell him about the White Council?” he asks Derek. “That’s treason.”

“Seriously? That’s what you took from what I just said?” Stiles scoffs. “No, you fucking genius. You talked about probation. Of course you’re law enforcement of some sort. And you just walked out of thin air. Of course you’re fucking magical. It’s not that hard to put together.” Stiles pauses for a moment.

“Hey, you just told me you’re White Council! Are you going to kill yourself now that you’ve committed treason?”

Derek lets out a startled laugh. Stiles flashes him a wide grin. The man doesn’t look amused.

“Kate, get him out of here,” the man says tightly. Stiles gives him an unimpressed look.

“Forcing me to go away? That doesn’t sound very legal to me.” Stiles crosses his arms and stares into the man’s eyes. He quickly looks away. Definitely a supernatural thing then. “You know, I’m still underage. Child-molesters usually don’t do very well in jail.”

“You’re making a mistake,” the woman - Kate - says, a predatory smile on her face. It chills him to the bone, but Stiles doesn’t back down.

“I don’t care if you’re fucking wizards or not. You still exist in this world. So unless you decide to live in magical land forever, I suggest you move on. I can make your lives very difficult,” Stiles warns, steeling his voice. “And if you decide to remove me, getting arrested will be the last thing you need to worry about. My family is protective like that.”

The man takes a step toward him. Stiles stands his ground. Derek puts an arm before him and stares at the man.

“Did the White Council run out of teenagers to threaten, Chris, so you finally had to expand your business to the mundane world as well?” Derek asks tersely. 

Chris silently looks at them for a couple seconds, and then he backs down. “Very well, you have another chance to prove yourself. Find this sorcerer who has been killing people, or we’ll bring you in.”

“I’ve been doing that since Laura was killed,” Derek retorts.

“Hurry up then,” Chris says, and he turns away.

“Wait a minute,” Stiles calls out. “You put this shackle on him. How do you expect him to defend himself when he finds the sorcerer?”

“Stay alive and wait for us,” Kate grins and follows Chris away. “I see you’ve found yourself a fierce little thing, Derek. Be careful. You know how everything you touch turns to ashes.”

Derek’s arm twitches in his hand. Stiles stares at them as they step into the portal and yells, “You guys are fucking assholes! I thought Derek was one, but I was wrong. He’s like a puppy compared to you two!”

Kate flashes him another smile before the portal closes up. Stiles can feel his heart pounding, hard. “Jesus Christ that was intense,” Stiles mutters. “I think I just made myself some new enemies.”

“Do you have a death wish?” Derek glares at him, his hands trembling slightly.

“Nah, figured they’d be less willing to kill you if I’m watching.” Stiles realizes he’s still holding Derek’s wrist. He slowly releases him. “You okay?”

Derek just looks at him with a blank face that makes Stiles want to hit himself. What kind of question is that? Of course he’s not okay.

“I mean the bracelet.”

Derek shrugs. “Not the first time.”

“That’s - you shouldn’t be this-.” Stiles frowns, worrying his lips. “I only felt a part of it and I almost passed out.”

Derek looks at his blood-stained hand. “I’m used to it.” He gives him the most broken half-smile Stiles has ever seen. It’s too much. He shouldn’t ache for someone he barely knows this much. But he’s felt his emotion and pain like it’s his own. It’s a miracle Derek’s still standing here, that he still cares enough to help some highschoolers he doesn’t know, even though he isn’t nice about it.

Stiles sighs. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You’re a mess.”

Derek shakes his head. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ll feel better if I’m sure you’re fine. Humor me.”

Derek shakes his head again. “You can’t be seen with me. I’m a fugitive.”

Stiles thinks for a second, and then another. They found Laura’s heart. The police found Laura’s heart in his place, and here he is. Oh this impulsive idiot. “You resisted arrest and ran away because you thought I did it.”

Derek stares at the wall.

“God, why do you have to complicate everything?” Stiles sighs. All this excitement is giving him a headache. He’ll never complain about his life being too normal ever again.

Derek doesn’t say anything. He just turns around and starts walking away.

Stiles follows.

“Why are you following me,” Derek says, exasperated.

“I’m thinking. Pacing helps me think.”

“Go pace somewhere else.”

“Nah, I need someone to look at the road for me.”

Derek rolls his eyes. Stiles grins at him.

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek mutters.

“Hey, you’re the one who thought I shoved a heart in your sink.”

Derek freezes and tenses up. Stiles stares at him. “You can’t possibly still think it could be me.”

Derek doesn’t look at him.

“I’ve made you a promise. I stuck my neck out for you,” Stiles says, his voice bitter. “Does that mean nothing?”

Derek opens his mouth, but then closes it without saying anything.

“Why, Derek, just, why?”

Derek stares at his feet, his lips pursed, fingers tapping his thighs.

Stiles suddenly feels cold. It starts from his fingertips and spreads through his body. He’s shivering. He tells himself it’s the adrenaline, that it’s just a normal reaction after an intense situation like that, and it has nothing to do with Derek Fucking Hale.

He doesn’t believe himself.

“I’m not a saint, Derek. You are making it really hard not to hate you.”

Hate is not the word he’s looking for, but he doesn’t know exactly how to describe his feeling. He feels exhausted, emotionally drained. He wants to help, but not when he’s not wanted, needed, not when he’s distrusted, misunderstood.

He thought he understood Derek a little better, but the man is still an enigma: frustrating, infuriating, exhausting.

Stiles buries his face in his hands, waiting. He listens to the footsteps moving away, hesitant. When he counts to ten, he opens his eyes and finds himself alone on the street. It’s what he expected, but the reality still hits him like a truck.

He lets out a deep breath and walks back to his jeep. He needs a tow, and his cellphone is still dead. Today is just getting better and better.

Opening the door to grab his bag, he notices the familiar coat draped over the passenger seat. His first reaction is that Derek forgot his stupid leather coat, but no, he was still wearing it when the shit hit the fan. Stiles carefully takes it out. A piece of paper falls off onto the ground, and Stiles picks it up. There’s only one word written on it: “Protection”

He looks over the coat. There’s not even a hint of a burn mark where the fire had been. He’s not sure how easy leather burns, but this still seems unusual.

Stiles sighs. He’s making it really hard not to hate him, but he’s making it really hard to simply hate him as well. Nothing about the man is easy. He just has to complicate everything.

He finds a pay phone and calls for a tow. He’s not that far from the station now, so he simply walks there. Most of the officers recognize him. They give him warm greetings and friendly teasing. He feels so much better now. He’s never realized how much this familiarity means to him.

“Hey, son, what brings you here?” his dad emerges from his office, giving Stiles a tight hug. Stiles buries his face into his shoulder and breathes slowly.

“You okay?” the sheriff asks, a concerned look on his face. Stiles tries his best to smile at him.

“Yeah, just remembered something. I’ll be fine.”

The sheriff stares at him carefully, looking into his eyes. Stiles has never realized how much one can see in another’s eyes either.

“Don’t worry, dad. I just wanted to see you, is all. I’ll feel much better after I’ve forced you to eat something healthy for dinner.”

The sheriff groans. Stiles chuckles softly and hugs his dad again.

When he pulls away, the sheriff is staring at the coat on his arm.

Oh, right. This is… kind of stupid of him. He wasn’t in his right mind though. He can’t be held responsible.

“That looks familiar,” the sheriff says warily. Stiles knows it’s useless to try denying it. His dad isn’t stupid.

“Yeah, it’s Derek’s. I bumped into him about an hour ago. Didn’t know he’d just run away from you guys.”

The sheriff frowns. “Did he do anything to you? Is that why you ‘remembered something’?”

“What? No, I mean, yes, he’s why I remembered something, but he didn’t hurt me or anything.” Not intentionally, at least, Stiles says to himself. Derek has issues, a shit load of issues. He suspects that even Derek himself doesn’t fully understand all of them. “He just… lost so much, and yet he thinks he deserves it. He believes he should be miserable. It’s frustrating.”

The sheriff puts his hand on Stiles’ shoulder and guides him back into his office. “What did he tell you?”

“Not much.” Stiles slumps into the couch. The sheriff sits down beside him. “He had a… panic attack or something. He looked like he was in a lot of pain. He told me he’s used to it.”

The sheriff makes a contemplative noise. “Did he say anything about his sister or the fire?”

Stiles shakes his head. “He doesn’t trust me enough to tell me that kind of thing.” Stiles didn’t mean to sound bitter. His dad obviously picks up on it, but decides not to comment. Stiles knows it’s just temporary, but he’s still grateful.

“You know he’s a murder suspect now.” The sheriff says.

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs. “I really don’t think he did it, dad.” He’s surprised how genuine he sounds, but it’s true. He’s angry at Derek, but the Derek Hale he knows is absolutely incapable of intentionally hurting anyone but himself, especially not his only family.

“Why?”

Stiles furrows his eyebrows. He can’t exactly say he’s felt his pain. That’s just weird. “I don’t know, just, a hunch? He just seems… devastated.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone killed someone they love and felt bad about it,” the sheriff says. Stiles knows what he’s doing. He knows it’s not his dad being convinced that Derek’s guilty. He just want to force him to think more carefully, to pull himself away and see the big picture as objectively as possible.

“Just, consider my opinion a character reference?” Stiles taps his finger on his thigh, searching for the right words. “I think he’s full of self-loathing and the only person he’s capable of hurting is himself. I think he’s lost too much and his sister was the only thing he had, so he doesn’t know how to not get obsessed with her death. And now he’s incredibly reckless because he thinks he has nothing to lose.”

The sheriff stares at him for a while. “You sound like you know him well.”

Stiles shrugs and gives his dad a wry smile. “I’m not unfamiliar with those feelings. Not all of them anyway.”

The sheriff nods stiffly. He knows his dad understands. It’s been nine years, but his mom’s still something they almost never talk about. Even after all these years the wound still feels too raw. Stiles isn’t sure if it will ever really heal.

“Off the record, I don’t think he killed his sister,either,” the sheriff says. He lies back and rubs his face tiredly. “Still doesn’t explain why he ran away.”

“Yeah, that.” Stiles rolls his eyes. That’s what got them into this mess. “I don’t think he was thinking very clearly at that point.”

The sheriff sighs. “Well, for the time being I still think you should stay away from him.”

“I didn’t go looking for him or anything.” Stiles holds up his hands. “I just bumped into him. Maybe it’s a twist of fate. Who knows.” He hesitates, unsure if he should tell his dad about Chris and Kate, but decides against it. He doesn’t know enough about them, yet.

“What, so you can defend him to me?”

“Maybe,” Stiles snorts. “And uh, maybe I should have told you this first. The jeep broke down, so I called AAA to tow it to a mechanic.”

The sheriff raises an eyebrow. “How?”

“Natural death?” Stiles suggests. The sheriff narrows his eyes.

“Didn’t you break your cellphone as well?”

“I didn’t break it. It died, along with almost every other one in the classroom,” Stiles says defensively. “Maybe NASA will know something. I should call them.”

The sheriff rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you get on that. I’m gonna get someone to drive you home.”

“Dad, I’ll be fine,” Stiles protests. “I can take a bus.”

“I’ll feel better knowing you got home safely.”

Stiles relents. “Fine, but first I’m still gonna go grab a salad and watch you finish it.” He jumps to his feet and grabs the door. His dad lets out a long-suffering sigh and slumps further into the couch. Stiles grins at him, and proceeds to trip himself at the door. He’s one second away from face-planting when a young deputy manages to catch him. 

His dad laughs at him.

“You’re the worst,” Stiles grumbles.

His dad laughs some more and responds easily, “Love you too, son.”

He tries to glare at his dad, but he can’t quite stop himself from smiling. He walks out with a lighter heart than he had when he got here. 

He’s not going to give up just yet, Stiles decides. He’s not a saint, and not exactly the most patient person in the world, but he has this, and Derek has no one and nothing, and yet he still gives. Stiles holds the necklace in his hand and feels its warmth. He wonders if there’s the same warmth under that carefully constructed coldness, and he intends to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terrible at description and dialog beats.


	4. Protection

There’s another death: Kyle Anderson, owner of a vintage bookstore. Stiles doesn’t know him very well, but he’s exchanged a few words with him. It’s inevitable in a town so small.

This time he doesn’t need to eavesdrop or steal a police report. This time he is the one who finds the body. The good thing is, he finally knows what the M.O. of these murders is. The bad thing is he’s pretty sure he’s going to have nightmares for the next few months.

It looks like something exploded in Anderson’s chest, presumably his heart, since there are pieces of his heart everywhere in the room. The look on his face is pure horror and agony. Stiles shudders to think how long it took for him to die. Did he know his heart was going to explode? Did his heart expand and crush his lungs?

Stiles is pretty sure this was done by magic. He wonders what the official cause of death will be. There’s nothing natural about the crime scene.

“I was looking for a book. He said he was going to get it for me and he went into the back room. I waited for a couple minutes, and then I heard him screaming.” Stiles swallows thickly. “I ran to the door and opened it and - yeah. This is what I saw.”

His dad puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. Stiles leans into his touch, shivering.

“Was there anyone else here?” the deputy asks. Stiles shakes his head.

“Not that I know of.”

“Are you sure?”

Stiles nods. It looks bad, but it’s the truth. He was the only customer at that time. He supposes with magic there’s ways to kill someone without being in the same room. He just hopes the police will find some way to explain it without making him a suspect.

His dad finds someone to drive him home again. Stiles sneaks out an hour later. He needs some answers. Derek might know what the spell is. He might know who Anderson is and what his connection to the fire is. He just needs to find him.

He should have asked for his number. Does Derek even own a cellphone?

He takes a bus and walks to the preserve. He has no idea if Derek will be here, but it’s a start. He walks toward the Hale House and stares at the remains of the building. He remembers what this place used to look like before everything. It was beautiful and so full of life back then.

He sees Derek coming out the back door, and he’s running, which can’t be a good sign. After a couple seconds a giant scorpion bursts out of the house and chases after him, snapping its claws and whipping its stinger.

What the fuck is that? Just, what? This is just ridiculous. Why does Derek always end up in this kind of situation?

He watches in horror as the scorpion’s claw gets Derek’s left foot and stabs the stinger into his left shoulder. Stiles is running before he knows it. He throws a rock at the scorpion. It releases Derek and turns to face him, whipping its tail around menacingly. Maybe he should have come up with a better plan before he did anything.

He takes a step backward. It takes a step forward. He steps back some more. It matches his move again.

Stiles turns on his heels and bolts, hoping the scorpion will follow, but at the same time dreading that it will. It does follow him. It’s not acting as aggressively as it was when it chased after Derek. Maybe it’s still assessing? Not sure if Stiles is a threat it should kill?

Whatever it’s been thinking, it has obviously made up its mind. It’s now chasing him and trying to snatch him with the same ferocity it had used chasing Derek. Stiles feels like prey. He definitely should have come up with a better plan.

Then he fucking trips like comedic relief in a horror movie, a terribly cliche horror movie. He feels something hit his back and someone shouts at him. Derek’s probably laughing at him - nah, he wouldn’t. He’ll somehow come to the conclusion that it’s all his own fault and blame himself for everything.

Things don’t exactly go the way he expects them to.

First, he doesn’t get impaled. Second, the scorpion bounces back and slams into a tree. Third, Derek’s limping toward him with a panicked look on his face.

He realizes three things: One, he apparently put on Derek’s leather coat when he snuck out. He has no idea why. Two, Derek wasn’t kidding when he wrote “protection.” Three, Derek should have kept this for himself. He obviously leads a much more dangerous life than Stiles. 

“There’s a lake up on the hill. Go up there and jump in. It’s afraid of water,” Derek says, his voice weak but determined. “Go!”

Stiles pushes himself up. “Nope, you are coming with me.”

Derek shakes his head. “Venom. Paralyzing.”

“Fucking hell I don’t care.” Stiles rushes to him, grabs Derek’s arm and pulls it around his shoulder. The scorpion is slowly getting to its feet. Stiles tries his best to drag Derek uphill with him.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Derek says.

“That’s my line,” Stiles bites out. He can see the lake now, but he can also hear the scorpion getting closer. He doesn’t turn back to watch.

“Leave,” Derek breathes. He tries to push Stiles away, but it feels more like a nudge.

“Stop it,” Stiles snaps. He tightens his grip on Derek’s waist and tries his best to speed up. Finally they reach the edge. A claw gets Stiles left ankle. He clenches his teeth, forces his foot out, and throws them both into the lake. The scorpion doesn’t follow.

“Fuck,” Stiles gasps, kicking the water to keep both of them afloat. He knows his foot is bleeding; he can feel the burn of the wound. “Any plan?”

“Leave me,” Derek mutters. “I can make a death curse.”

Stiles makes a noise. “That sounds like something incredibly stupid and self-sacrificing. You’ll die doing it, won’t you.”

Derek doesn’t respond. It’s all the answer Stiles needs.

“Nope, I veto it.” Derek is getting heavier. Stiles chokes on the water and coughs. He gathers his strength and pushes them up again. “I didn’t - drag your ass here to watch you die. Think of a better plan.”

“Didn’t ask you to,” Derek says. Stiles headbutts him.

“Think!” he hisses, his teeth clattering. It’s autumn in California, but it’s still not ideal for a swim in the lake. “There must be something!”

Derek goes silent. Stiles just concentrates on kicking his feet and keeping Derek close. The scorpion is pacing around the edge of the lake, watching - sensing? smelling? - them. Everything is so over-the-top Stiles would totally laugh if he had breath to spare.

“There’s something,” Derek finally says. “But it’s risky. You might die.”

Stiles thinks for a couple seconds. He doesn’t really need to. He’s already made up his mind. “Tell me then.”

Derek tells him.

As far as a plan goes, it sounds pretty simple. The hard part is that he’ll need to outrun the scorpion long enough for Derek to haul his paralyzed body to where he needs to be. He isn’t sure how both of them are going to manage to do what they have to do, but it’s the only option they have. (Well, there’s Derek’s stupid suicide plan, but that’s not an option for him.)

“You don’t have to do this.” Derek, being the self-loathing martyr he is, offers him a way out. Stiles glares at him and shakes his head.

“Shut up.”

Stiles gets them both to the water’s edge. The scorpion is already waiting for them when they climb out. Stiles bolts. They thought that the scorpion would chase after Stiles and leave Derek be since he’s already paralyzed. They’re right. Thank god.

His legs feel like noodles, and his soaked clothes are really fucking heavy. He curses himself for wearing so many layers. It’s not even that cold. He thinks about taking off his shirt, but he still needs the protection of Derek’s coat. Taking off the coat to strip out of his clothes and then put the coat back on is just way too complicated for him to handle now. He swears if they - _when_ they get out of this mess, he’s going to change his style. He’s going to go for a tank top every day.

“You there yet?” Stiles yells. He probably shouldn’t waste his breath, but he seriously needs to start rationing his stamina instead of going full-speed nonstop. He won’t be able to keep that up for long.

“One minute!” Derek yells back. He sounds out of breath. Stiles wonders how exactly he has been dragging himself. With teeth? By squirming?

“The nearest tree to your backyard?”

“Yes! Stop talking!”

Stiles obliges, not because he wants to, but because he needs to. His throat is starting to hurt and it’s getting harder to breathe properly. He counts in his mind. _Thirty, thirty-one_. He really needs to start exercising more. Survival of the fittest and all that. _Forty-two, forty-three_. Maybe lacrosse will help. And the stick might come in handy someday. Maybe joining wasn’t such a bad idea.

“Stiles!” Derek shouts when he’s counted to fifty-five. Stiles pushes all his strength into his heart, his legs, his lungs. He rushes to where Derek is. Belatedly, he realizes it’s the first time Derek has called him by his name. Well, not his real _Name_ with a capital N. But still.

Maybe it shouldn’t please him this much.

He can see the house now. Derek’s leaning against a tree, arms hanging on the branches to keep himself up. He’s holding a knife in his right hand, his face pale but his eyes focused. Stiles runs toward him. Derek cuts the air open and a portal similar to what Chris used appears.

Stiles didn’t exactly plan to run in with the scorpion, but he’s running too fast to stop himself. He stumbles in and the scorpion bumps into him, knocking him onto the ground. It climbs on top of him, forcing out what little air he has in his lungs. He gasps and tries to push it away.

Everything slows down like it’s a goddamn movie. His vision narrows. His own breath and heartbeats are loud and clear to his ears. He sees Derek throwing himself onto the ground, drags himself to the portal, and reaches out for him. Stiles grabs his hand. Derek yanks him out and onto himself. He waves the knife weakly and the portal closes up before the scorpion can get out.

“Jesus,” Stiles wheezes, panting heavily. Derek goes completely limp under him, like he’s used up the last strength he had to pull Stiles back.

“Fucking hell, are we alive?” Stiles asks. Everything seems so surreal at this moment. He wouldn’t be surprised if they’d actually died and were in a special kind of hell.

“You’re still talking,” Derek points out, his voice so quiet Stiles probably wouldn’t hear him if he wasn’t practically on top of him. Speaking of which, this is probably making it really hard for Derek to breathe. Stiles forces himself to roll onto the ground and lie beside him.

“You’re still paralyzed?” Stiles looks at Derek. Derek nods slightly.

“How do you treat it?”

Derek shakes his head. “It’ll wear off after a while.”

“Define a ‘while’.”

“A couple hours. Maybe.”

“Jesus. We can’t stay here. I’m gonna take you to my place. My dad won’t be home until tomorrow morning.”

Derek gives him a sideway glance. “Your dad is the sheriff.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I remember.”

“I’m a fugitive,” Derek says incredulously.

“Yeah, so?” Stiles props himself up, looking at his wounded foot. It looks kind of disgusting with all the mud and wrinkled skin, but it doesn’t look too serious. “It’s actually kind of genius. Nobody will try to find you there.”

Derek shakes his head and huffs. “I don’t understand you.”

“That’s my personal charm. Get used to it,” Stiles retorts. “Do you have a car?”

“Left pocket.”

Stiles reaches into Derek’s left pocket and finds the key. He grabs it. “Where?”

“Out of the preserve. Across from the entrance.”

“All right. Come on then.”

Derek’s completely paralyzed now, so Stiles has to pull both of Derek’s arms onto his shoulder and then pulls him onto his back.

“Oh my god, you’re really fucking heavy. Why do you have to have all those muscles?” Stiles complains, wobbling forward. Derek’s a dead weight on his back. His dad made it looked so easy when he showed him how to do this. Those muscles, man.

“Shut up,” Derek mumbles, his breath tickling the back of Stiles’ neck.

“I’m the one who’s carrying your heavy ass. I get to talk. You get to listen.”

“Drop me then.”

“Will you stop it, Lord of self-loathing?”

Stiles tries to elbow Derek in the gut. The only thing he accomplishes is making Derek slide down and bringing himself down with him. They fall into a heap of tangled limbs.

Derek grunts his disapproval.

“Fuck you too,” Stiles grunts back.

He pulls Derek back onto him and stands up. He has the urge to just drag Derek by the ankles, but it will look like he’s going to dump a body. That won’t end well.

“Wait, can’t you just, use the portal or something?”

“No.”

Stiles waits for a second.

“That’s it? No explanation?”

Silence.

“You’re infuriating. I’ve always been told I’m infuriating, but that’s because they’ve never met you.”

Silence.

They finally reach Derek’s car. It isn’t really that far, but Stiles feels like he’s just finished a cross-country run. “Oh you drive a Camaro. Of course you drive a Camaro. You’re a walking cliche, man.” Even his car is dark and sexy. This is ridiculous.

“Don’t break it,” Derek says.

“Oh now you decide to talk?” Stiles dumps him into the passenger seat and puts the seatbelt on for him. After what they’ve been through it’d be really fucking stupid if they died in a car accident.

He slips into the driver’s seat and starts the car. He has to admit it’s kind of intimidating to drive this thing.

“All right, prepare to engage thrusters, Mr. Sulu.”

Derek rolls his eyes.

Surprisingly, they actually reach his home without any accidents. Maybe things are finally looking up. Stiles parks two blocks away and drags Derek into his house through the back door. He hopes no one saw them. It’d be really hard to explain to his dad.

He somehow gets them into the bathroom without tripping and puts Derek into the bathtub. It looks hilarious, Derek almost folding in half in their tiny bathtub. His dad and he never really take baths anymore. They just stand in the bathtub and shower.

“I really need to start working out.” Stiles groans. His spine makes a really weird popping sound when he straightens his back. He hopes he hasn’t broken anything. “I’m gonna grab the first aid kit. Don’t try anything, not that you can.”

He slips into the kitchen and takes the first aid kit out of the cupboard. They have a really extensive first aid kit. As much as Stiles enjoys cooking, he’s still a spaz and all sorts of accidents happen around him.

He gets back to the bathroom. Derek jerks his head in his direction, but his eyes are closed. Weird.

“What, your eyes hurt or something?”

Derek shakes his head, or tries to. The movement is so small Stiles is almost sure he imagined it.

“Then what?”

Derek hesitates. “I can’t see.”

“What? Why didn’t you say anything?” Stiles throws his hand out. “Is that normal? It’s temporary, right?”

“I think so.”

Stiles sighs and starts stripping off his wet clothes. At least he doesn’t need to feel self-conscious about his pale, lanky body now. “Your big secret is out. You can open your eyes now. It’s weirding me out.”

“No.”

That’s Derek Hale in a nutshell. Just one word: No. He’s the embodiment of No.

“Why not?”

It seems like Derek’s not going to explain himself again. Stiles lets out a frustrated noise and starts taking off Derek’s clothes.

“Deal with your foot first,” Derek says abruptly. Stiles ignores him and continues pulling off Derek’s Henley.

“I can wait,” Derek says, more insistent this time. Stiles takes a washcloth, soaks it, and starts cleaning the cuts and scrapes on Derek’s upper body. He was right before. Derek has ridiculous abs, and he has broad shoulders that make people want to throw their legs over them.

Derek sighs. “Just clean your foot. It can get infected.”

Stiles puts down the washcloth. "Start talking."

Derek furrows his eyebrows. "It's complicated."

"Try me."

For a moment neither of them say anything. Stiles continues cleaning Derek’s wounds, and Derek stays still like a statue.

Then finally, Derek gives him a barely visible nod. 

"The portal, we call it a Way. It leads to the other side of the world. We don't create them, merely open them. They change over time."

“Is it dangerous? The other side?“ Stiles asks.

“Could be.”

Stiles nods to himself and starts cleaning the wound on his own foot. A part of the skin’s peeled off, but it’s just the surface. “What about your eyes?” He thinks about how Derek’s been avoiding his eyes. And Chris did as well. “What happens when magical people meet other people’s eyes?”

Derek blinks in surprise. Stiles avoids his eyes for him.

“Soulgaze happens.” Derek closes his eyes again. “Eye contact creates a channel between two individuals. When a wizard looks into the eyes of anyone with a soul, we see each other’s souls.”

“But you can’t see right now,” Stiles says.

Derek shrugs. It looks more like a twitch. “I don’t want to take the risk.”

“Is it really so bad, seeing each other’s soul?”

“What you see can’t be unseen, and the memory never fades,” Derek says. “It can be traumatic.”

Stiles finishes putting bandages on his ankle and looks at Derek. “And you don’t want other people to see yours.”

Derek doesn’t reply, but Stiles sees his answer in the way his shoulders tense up.

“When you said you can’t see me, does that have anything to do with this?”

He needs to ask. It’s eating him, and he doesn’t know if Derek will ever be in the sharing mood again. Maybe he’s pushing it, but he has to give it a try.

After a pregnant silence, Derek answers. “It’s - Sight. It’s similar in some way, but different.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Why do I sense there’s another capital letter there? Your people are really lazy, man.”

Derek huffs. “It lets us see the world as it really is. We can see a person’s true form: his experience, his core, his soul.”

“But you can’t see me.” Stiles thinks about what Derek said, about seeing Scott but not him. “You know Scott’s not gonna hurt you because you can see him, but you can’t see me.”

Derek nods. “You give nothing away.”

“Okay, that… explains a lot. It makes me even more confused about myself, but it explains a lot.” Somehow it makes him feel better, knowing the reason for Derek’s open distrust of him. He can work with that.

He helps Derek sit up to check his back, and he freezes when he sees the triskelion. It’s much bigger than Scott’s, covering both of his shoulder blades. Stiles can feel the heat coming from it.

“Is this -”

“Yes,” Derek says tightly.

“Why would you have one? Is Scott connected to you? Why didn’t you tell us, or at least Scott? Just what exactly is the mark?” Stiles is half yelling in the end. He forgets about Derek’s paralysis and drops him. He barely catches Derek’s head before it hits the bathtub. “Sorry. It’s just confusing,” he mutters.

Derek lets out a long breath. “It connects the wills of multiple individuals. It’s family tradition. We invented it. We used it to link everyone together. It made us stronger, closer. It was never meant to be used the way it was used on your friend.” For a moment he looks absolutely lost. And Stiles realizes that Derek’s just as clueless as he is, that he’s lost everyone he used to depend on and he doesn’t know what to do.

“Okay, so if Scott getting marked is related to the murder, someone killed Laura and then shoved some of their magic in Scott for safekeeping. Why?” Stiles thinks aloud. “You said Scott’s being used as a bank account. Does the caster - is it possible for the killer to get Laura’s magic?”

Derek seems to have connected the dots. “She killed Laura to get her power, but it was too much for her to handle, so she stored part of it in your friend.”

“You say that like you know who did it.”

“She’s the only one besides my family who knows how the mark works,” Derek says quietly. There’s another story behind it. And it won’t be pretty.

“Is it possible she planted the heart?”

“Maybe.” Derek purses his lips. “I don’t know how she could, but it’s not impossible.”

“Is it more possible than me carrying your sister’s heart and pulling it out of my ass and somehow shoving it down your sink without you noticing?” Stiles asks. Derek blinks at him and slowly, a self-deprecating smile appears on his face. It’s small and brief and not exactly a happy one, but it’s there and it’s real. Stiles stares at the quirk of Derek’s lips and reaches out to pat his shoulder.

“Well, you could have brained me when I was being an asshole about your family. We’ll call it even.”

Derek snorts.

“Now that you know all this, couldn’t you call the council and be done with it?”

Derek’s expression turns sour, and Stiles gets it.

“She’s one of them,” Stiles says. Everything suddenly seems so obvious. The way she acted. The things she’d said. “Kate.”

Derek’s fingers twitch.

Stiles has never felt so much hatred for someone he doesn’t know. Maybe it’s the residue of Derek’s emotions mixed with his. Maybe it’s simply because he’s felt how much pain she’s inflicted and she didn’t seem to care. He knows there’s something else, though. He knows she’s done something much worse to Derek.

“Did she have something to do with the fire?” Stiles asks quietly.

Derek freezes. That’s all the answer Stiles needs.

“Why would she kill Myers and Anderson though? I mean, Myers covered up the fire, and I think Anderson’s involved in some way as well. Why kill them? And in that way? It seems way too personal and messy to be a dispute between accomplices.” He doesn’t really expect an answer. Who knows who has it.

“How did they die?” Derek asks. 

Stiles widens his eyes in mock surprise. “You ask a question! You’ve discovered the question mark! I’m so proud of you right now.”

Derek groans. “Stiles.”

“And you use my name in a non life-and-death situation. You’ve learned so much, my padawan.”

Derek rolls his eyes. It suddenly dawns on him that Derek’s seen both Star Trek and Star Wars, which is pretty amazing.

“So, from what I’ve heard, they died the same way Laura did,” Stiles says. “I was there when Anderson died. He went into a room and after a moment he screamed. When I got to the door, he was already dead. It looked like his heart had exploded out of his chest. There was no one else there.”

Stiles waits for Derek to look at him with suspicion and declare him a murderer, but he doesn’t. Maybe it’s finally gotten into Derek’s thick skull that Stiles really isn’t some evil overlord in disguise.

“Is it possible to kill someone from far away with magic? Like voodoo or something?”

“It requires a lot of power, but with Laura’s magic she’d be able to do it.”

But what’s her motivation? He can’t think of one that makes sense. These deaths are just drawing attention to the fire and herself. What good will it do?

“All this thinking is giving me a headache. I’m just gonna take your clothes off and go do the laundry. I hate doing laundry, but I really need boring human things to do right now.” Stiles pulls himself closer and leans over the bathtub. “So don’t take this the wrong way. I’m gonna take off your jeans now.”

Stiles reaches out to unbutton his jeans. Why does he have to wear jeans so tight? Stiles is afraid he’ll accidentally take Derek’s underwear off. He pinches the hem of Derek’s boxer briefs to keep them up and starts yanking Derek’s jeans down with the other hand. He’s absolutely not staring at Derek’s thick thighs or long legs or narrow hips or - nope, not going there.

He grabs Derek’s left ankle a little more forcefully than necessary. The cut is shallower than his. “What does Scott look like anyway?”

Derek cocks his head slightly. "A dog-eared teenager holding a giant compass in his hand wearing a hat with your name on it."

Stiles bursts out laughing. "Seriously?"

Derek's mouth twitches. "Yeah."

Stiles shakes his head, cackling. "What does that even mean?"

"That he's loyal, good-natured, has a strong moral compass, and he depends on you to think for him a lot."

Stiles stares at him, stunned. "That's... pretty accurate."

Derek shrugs. He can properly shrug now. That's a good sign.

"Okay, I'm gonna move you to the sofa, because I might kill us both if I try to move you upstairs now."

Stiles grabs Derek's arms and pulls him onto his back again. He's starting to get the hang of this. What he forgets is they are both mostly naked and Derek's basically draping over him like a oversized jacket now, solid chest plastered on his shoulder blades, abs against his lower back, dick rubbing his tailbone.

He's going to die. He's going to be the first person in human history to die of blue balls.

Stiles is suddenly really glad that Derek can't see or feel him now.

He drops Derek onto the couch. "I'll find something you can wear," he mumbles, willing his dick to calm the fuck down. He runs upstairs, puts on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, and tries to find the biggest clothes he owns. He finds a pair of well-worn sweatpants and a loose white T-shirt with Donald Duck on it. He cackles. It's just serendipity that the biggest shirt he has happens to be this one.

He brings the clothes down. Derek squints at the white shirt suspiciously.

"You can see now?" Stiles asks.

"Only a little." He reaches out to take the shirt and starts touching the printed picture on it. “What’s on it?”

“Ooh, another question!”

Derek glares at his nose. Stiles snickers.

"Donald Duck. I swear it's not intentional on my part. You can choose not to put it on if you hate it so much. And here's a pair of completely normal black sweatpants. I'm going to wash our clothes so you can wear your own clothes back to... wherever you're staying now."

Derek huffs and struggles to put both the pants and the T-shirt on. Stiles bites his lips to stifles his laugh, but he isn't very successful. Derek doesn't seem to mind too much though. He just rolls his eyes again.

Stiles dumps all their clothes into the washing machine. He stares at the coat. "Can I wash the coat or will that wash the magic away?" he yells at Derek.

“Don't wash leather in a washing machine," Derek answers, barely audible.

"All right Tim Gunn!" Stiles teases. He can practically hear Derek rolling his eyes.

When he gets back to the living room, Derek's lying on the couch with his eyes closed. He's the most relaxed Stiles has ever seen him, which, granted, is still pretty tense by normal standards, but for him it’s basically lying on a marshmallow level of relaxed.

He sits down on another couch beside him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. The Donald Duck smoothes out and gets wrinkled as he breathes. Stiles laughs softly.

Derek cracks an eye open at him. Stiles waves a hand at him. "Go back to sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Sure you aren’t.”

Derek tries to sit up, but his back muscles aren’t working properly yet. He falls back down and lets out a frustrated huff.

“Just wait until you get better, idiot. Do you seriously need me to swear I’m not gonna hurt you again?”

Derek actually looks like he’s thinking about it. Stiles shakes his head in disbelief. “Fucking hell, I just risked my life saving you from a giant scorpion. Does it look like I want you dead?”

Derek stares at him with an unreadable look on his face. "One hour. I should be better by then."

“Fine. Just sleep already.”

Derek huffs, but nods. He lies back, curls into himself a little, and falls asleep.

Stiles grabs his laptop and starts googling giant scorpion. He finds a bunch of bad monster movies and a couple Australians sharing their horrifying story of finding all sorts of deadly animals on their beds. (Seriously, Australians are freaking badasses.) He then starts googling the pendant on the necklace Derek gave him. (He was looking for books about magical objects before Anderson died. He obviously isn't going back anytime soon.) He can't find anything specific, but from what he's gathered, if this is real, which it obviously is because Derek takes protection very seriously ( _ha!_ ), it can cost much more than all his organs in total.

Jesus, how does he even begin to repay Derek for that?

He hears the beeps of the washing machine. He goes to retrieve their clothes, lays them on the table, and brings the coat to the bathroom to hand wash it. There's a puncture mark on the back of the coat where the scorpion slammed into him, but it didn't break through the leather. Stiles wonders just how much magic has been put into this to make it so resistant. How old is the coat? Who made it magical kevlar?

He hangs the coat up and strolls back into the living room. Derek is twisting and turning on the couch. The bracelet on his wrist is glowing faintly.

"Derek?" Stiles kneels on the floor and reaches out cautiously. He mentally prepares himself and puts his hand on Derek's arm.

He's terrified.

Everything's falling apart and he can't do anything. He can only watch helplessly as he loses everyone he loves one by one and all at once. He can feel every connection being yanked away and the only remains of them rush into him through the connections. It's too much to handle. It's tearing him apart from the inside out.

Derek pushes him away. “Don’t do that again.”

Stiles lets out a shuddering breath. For the first time he can’t muster the strength to fight back, nor does he want to.

"Sorry, your bracelet was glowing again, so, you know," Stiles mutters, rubbing his face. At least he didn't cry this time. "You were going to bleed on my couch and it'd be really hard to explain to my dad.”

Derek glowers at him.

“I get it, all right? Pain’s important,” Stiles says tiredly. “I don’t want to take anything away, but that bracelet is killing you. I can’t not do anything.”

“Why?”

The worst part is, he sounds genuinely confused.

“Is it really so hard to believe that someone just wants to help you?”

Derek stares at his wrist. “Everyone wants something.”

“Yeah, sure, I want you to stop being a miserable ass.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, because I’m a decent human being?”

Derek looks up at him, his intense eyes focusing on Stiles’ face, as if there’s an answer to everything he doesn’t understand about people. He offers his arm and asks, “How clearly can you feel?”

“Depends.” Stiles glances at Derek. He hopes he hasn’t read him wrong. He rests his palm on Derek’s forearm. “Now I don’t feel anything. You’re much more closed off than Scott. I think it’s the bracelet?”

Derek nods wordlessly before taking a deep breath and holding it. Stiles can feel something… empty flowing into him. It’s weird, feeling the lack of something so clearly.

“Loss,” Stiles says. “It gets clearer when the emotion is more intense.”

Derek pulls his arm back. "You should be more careful with this."

Stiles shrugs. "Well, I’ll try, but I can't just stand by and watch."

"I can't tell if it's bravado or stupidity."

Stiles grins at him. "Maybe both, maybe neither."

Derek shakes his head and sits up, threading his fingers through his hair. Stiles gapes at the novelty that is Derek Hale's bed hair. 

"I really don't understand you."

"Apparently I'm a supernatural black box. That's just how I am."

Derek snorts. His feet are still a little unsteady, but he manages to stand up on his own. “I’m going.”

 “Told you my dad wouldn’t be back until seven.” Stiles picks Derek’s clothes up and frowns. “And your jeans are still wet.”

Derek takes his clothes from Stiles’ hands without a word.

“You aren’t thinking about wearing your wet jeans back, are you? You’re going to get some serious chafing.”

Derek stares at the t-shirt he’s wearing.

“Dude, nobody cares if you look like you just got out of Disneyland.” Stiles snatches Derek’s clothes back and fetches a plastic bag from the kitchen to put them in. When he comes back to the living room, Derek’s still standing in the exact same spot.

“Where are you staying?” Stiles asks, handing the bag to Derek.

"My car," Derek answers. Stiles grimaces.

"That's just sad, man."

"It's temporary."

"Yeah, well, just, go find a hotel if you can. Don't use your credit card or anything." Stiles retrieves the coat and pushes it into Derek's arms. Derek pushes it back.

"I have another," Derek says easily. Stiles narrows his eyes at him.

"Liar."

"Keep it,” Derek insists. “I have other ways to protect myself."

"Yeah, and I can borrow a bulletproof vest from my dad.”

"There are things more dangerous than bullets out there.”

“And you are more likely to encounter them.”

Derek snatches the coat and throws it at Stiles’ face. Stiles peels it off his face and sighs, “Fine.”

Satisfied, Derek drapes the coat over Stiles' shoulders and starts murmuring something in Latin. Stiles really should have paid more attention in his Latin class. His curiosity is killing him.

"Is that a prayer or something?" he asks.

"Something like that."

“You’re not gonna tell me unless I’m dying, are you?”

Derek doesn’t dignify that with an answer. ”Stay away from trouble,” he says before he turns to walk toward the back door. Stiles follows.

"Stay alive," Stiles retorts. He tries to make it sound playful, but mostly he just sounds worried.

"I'll try," Derek says, eyes serious, like it's the best he can offer.

Stiles watches as Derek walks out and away. He's suddenly terrified that this will be the last time he sees him, and that the coat and the necklace would become nothing but reminders of his death. He doesn’t know exactly how he’ll feel if Derek dies, but you don’t save each other’s life without leaving a mark somewhere. It’ll hurt, and it’ll leave a scar.

He marches toward Derek and grabs his arm. Derek turns to look at him with an raised eyebrow.

"Try harder," Stiles says.

Derek's fingers find the necklace resting on his chest. He holds the pendant up and rubs his thumb on the runes.

"You too," Derek says, flashing him a brief almost-smile before he disappears into the night.

Stiles pulls the coat tighter around his shoulders and holds the warm pendant in his hand. He stares at nothing for a good while before going back inside and locking the door behind him.

That night he sleeps with the solid weight and warmth of the pendant on his chest, and the leather coat that is in no way soft or comfortable around his shoulders. Maybe it's that. Maybe it's simply exhaustion. There's no monster chasing him or horrifying death in his dream, but the warm embrace of his father and the soothing chatters of his mother. He wakes up feeling well-rested and safe.

It's the first time in years he has dreamed about his mom without waking up sobbing.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exposition. So much exposition. Sorry for that. I'm trying to keep it to the minimum.  
> I have no idea how this chapter becomes so long.  
> And rewriting is a bitch.


	5. Sight

Stiles would really like to blame Scott, but it isn’t really his fault. It isn’t really anyone’s fault but Kate Argent’s.

“So, tell me, what has Derek been doing lately?” Kate drawls, lifting his chin with her index finger. He’s currently tied to a magical tree magically with his hands magically cuffed behind his back. Basically, Stiles is being held in a magical land by a magical parole officer, and he has officially said “magical” in his head too many times.

His life is ridiculous.

He was with Scott and Allison at the time. Allison invited Scott to her house to study together (yeah, right) and Scott still needed Stiles along to not kill his mom’s car. So Stiles got in the car with them, got to Allison’s home, was about to leave them alone, and found out tall, blonde, and scary is Allison’s favorite aunt.

Oh, and Chris is Allison’s father, apparently.

After what he’d seen he couldn’t leave Scott there with them. He tried to persuade Scott to leave with him, but Scott was being a love-sick idiot and refused. Scott believed they wouldn’t harm him or Stiles since they hadn’t done anything wrong and “they’re Allison’s family, Stiles, Allison is a good person. They can’t be that bad.” Stiles couldn’t convince him otherwise.

So he sucked it up, endured Chris’ creepy intense scrutiny and Kate’s creepy predatory grin, and stayed to be the third wheel. Scott practically dragged Stiles into the bathroom and begged him to give him an hour of alone time with Allison. Stiles relented and decided to watch the two adults instead.

It wasn’t that difficult, since they invited him to have coffee with them in the living room.

He felt like he was in Godfather. Chris interrogated him about how he knew Derek Hale and why he’d defended him. Kate pretended to be helpful and started explaining Derek had killed with magic and it was the worst thing in the world to use what was born of life to end life. Chris supplied that it was self-defense, thus the probation instead of death sentence, oblivious to what his sister was trying to do. Kate started implying that no one know for sure if it was self-defense or not. He killed his own uncle, wasn’t that horrible?

Then Chris got a call and excused himself. (He has a stone as his phone. _A fucking stone._ How does that even work?) Kate started not so subtly seducing Stiles after Chris left. Sure, objectively he knew she was hot in a cougar way, but he’d kind of decided that she was a horrible person, so mainly it just felt kind of gross. He may have told her so. She gave him a psychotic smile and voila, the next thing he remembered he was in magical land being magically tied up.

“Come on, Stiles, you’ve seen the body. You know what horrible things he’s been doing. It’s a nasty spell.”

Kate scratches her nail against his lips. 

Stiles glares at her. “You do remember there’s a torture device on his wrist preventing him from doing magic, right? Since you guys put it on him and all.”

Kate shrugs. “He must have found a way to bypass the bracelet. He has the knowledge and the raw power to do this. He doesn’t even need a ritual to power up the spell.”

“From what I’ve heard, you have the knowledge as well. You can just do a ritual to power up the spell,” Stiles retorts. 

Kate laughs and pushes him against the tree. “Why would I do that? I have noquarrel with any of them.”

“Wow, this is the first time I’ve heard someone actually use the word quarrel in a conversation.”

Kate narrows her eyes at him. “You think you’re smart, don’t you? You think you’ve seen everything.”

“That’s very zen, Yoda.” Stiles grins at her. She puts her hand on his throat and tightens slightly.

“Strangling me won’t do you any good.” Stiles tries to stay calm. He steadies his breath and doesn’t look away. Kate smiles at him and pulls her hand back.

“No, it won’t. Physical pain normally isn’t the most effective way.” She takes a syringe out of her pocket. “You seem like someone who needs to be emotionally broken first.”

She bends his neck down, jabs the syringe into the back of his neck, and pushes the liquid in.

It’s like something has pushed his system into overdrive. Everything is suddenly too bright, too loud, and hurts too much. He gasps and tastes blood in the air. He yanks his hand and feels pain shooting from his wrists. He looks up and sees Kate Argent transforming into a monster.

She looks human, but there’s nothing human in her. She’s covered in blood and ashes. Her tongue’s dripping venom and her black heart’s pushing black blood through her body. She’s poison. She uses her face and body and deceiving words as lures to prey on her victims. He can see wet sticky black tendrils caressing her body, writhing and jerking.

He backs off until he’s flat against the tree trunk. She smiles at him, showing him her fangs. There’s a sweet rotten smell coming from her. It smells like a corpse, like death.

“Is it you? I can’t figure out what you are. Is it you who’s helped him do all this?”

“He’s not doing anything.” Stiles digs his nails into his palms, focusing on the pain, trying to ignore everything else. “Why do you think I’d know anyway? I barely know him.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You seemed fairly protective of him the other day.” Kate puts her palm on his chest and leans in closer. He feels the unbound hatred and malice. It’s dark and dense and suffocating. “Interesting.” She grins widely and pushes another ball of magic into him.

It burns.

It burns simply to hurt, to destroy. There’s no restraint, no rules. She’s hurt so many but there’s not a trace of guilt in her. She believes she’s right.

“Did he push his magic through you and you let it out? It’s possible. I’ll have to try.” She takes out a pocket knife and cuts her palm. Black blood bursts out of her palm and trickles down. “Maybe a little curse on your friend? What’s his name, Scott?”

“Don’t you dare.” He squirms and tries to kick her away. She looks at him with amused eyes, like he’s a kitten trying to claw his way out of a cage. She pushes him against the tree and all the air whooshes out of his lungs. Black veins start spreading on Kate’s arm.

“You’ll only hurt yourself,” she sneers. “I see you’re the kind who fights back harder when your loved one’s threatened. You have a strong mind. Pity you should waste it on a monster.”

“What are you -” Stiles croaks out. “You are the only monster I know.”

Kate laughs, sharp and humorless. “Oh, you know nothing.”

She shoves a piece of wood into his hand, and he just knows what it is, where it’s from. It’s remains from the Hale house. He sees the never-ending fire and the last moments of Derek’s family. He feels the burn and the suffocating smoke and the helplessness. He hears the screaming like it’s coming from his own body and it crushes his lungs and squeezes his heart.

“You can feel all that, can’t you?” She digs her finger into his neck. It’s just a scratch, but it feels like she’s slicing him open. “What they are capable of is much worse.”

He’s vaguely aware of the fact that she’s collecting his blood, but his brains have no room for his own panic. He curls into himself and starts hyperventilating. His body starts shaking and his vision starts to blur -

“Ah, pity, the cavalry’s coming,” she says, jerking him out of his haze. She grabs his head in her hand. Something cool and sharp is probing his brain.

He gasps in horror. “What the fuck are you -”

“Now, no need to be crude,” she hums and tightens her grip. “Can’t have you remembering this, can I?”

“Get out of my head.” He tries to yell, but it comes out as a whimper. She chuckles.

“Maybe I should make you forget something else as well? You see, there’s this memory that brings you so much pain. Her death will always hurt you. How about -”

“No, no, don’t -” He’s trembling. He can’t lose that. Memory is all he has of his mother. She can’t take that away. Everything else she can, but not this. “Please, don’t. Take everything else. Not her -”

“Now you’re begging,” she says gleefully. “Maybe I should have done this sooner.” Stiles wants to strangle her. He wants to rip her throat out. She doesn’t deserve to live. She doesn’t. “Tell me your real Name, and I’ll leave the memory alone.”

Stiles shudders to think what she’ll do with it. It’s dangerous, Derek has said. He doesn’t know what she’ll be able to do, but anything is better than that. Anything is better than losing his mom.

Stiles nods dumbly. “Garnuszek -”

The sound of a gunshot interrupts him. Kate deflects the bullet with a black shield and it bounces off. He snaps his head up and sees Derek - covered in ashes and wounds with his chest wide open and his heart burnt - aiming a gun at Kate.

“Get away from him,” Derek says, his voice purposefully calm, but Stiles can see the rage barely contained in him. It’s grounding, soothing. He’d cry in relief if he had any strength left.

“Oh, we’re just getting to the fun part.” Kate pouts. She puts her hand around his throat. “What are you going to do? You know you can’t hurt me with that.”

“Someone can.” Derek takes out a stone. It looks just like Chris’.

“That’s unexpected. You willingly contacting my brother?” She shakes her head and chuckles. “Oh well, another time, Stiles.”

She pushes him away and turns to run. Derek catches him before he hits the ground. Stiles collapses into him. Derek smells like ashes and fire, but also ocean and sun underneath. He’s safe. He feels safe.

Derek wordlessly puts an arm around his waist and lets him rest his head on his shoulder. He opens a Way and half-carries him out, then drags him out of what looks like a train carriage.

“Stiles!” He hears his dad shout, voice broken. Stiles looks up at him.

There’s a gaping wound on his dad’s chest, and it’s so deep it almost splits him in half. Around him there are all kinds of ropes and chains, binding him to a huge, heavy anchor. And they’re tightening, tightening as his dad approaches him.

Stiles lets out a strangled noise and pushes himself out of Derek’s arm, falling onto the ground and scrambling away. He can’t do this to his dad. Not his dad as well.

“Stiles?” his dad asks and reaches out for him. A rope climbs onto his arm like a snake. Stiles backs off further.

“No, no, I can’t,” he mutters. “I need to leave. I can’t do this to you as well.”

“What are you talking -”

“Can’t you see? I’m hurting you!” He tries to push himself up, but he can’t quite coordinate his limbs properly. “I’m stopping you from moving on.”

“Son -”

Derek grabs him and covers his eyes.

“Let go!” Stiles yells. He claws at Derek’s hand, but Derek doesn’t budge. “I need to see. I need to know.”

“No,” Derek says and tightens his grip. Stiles wants to just lean into the warmth and safety, but he can’t. He needs to know who else he’s hurting. Is he hurting Scott? Is he holding Scott back?

“Hale, let go of my son,” his dad says, confusion and panic in his voice.

Derek ignores him. “You are not hurting him. I can see what you’re seeing. It’s real, but your interpretation is wrong.”

Stiles laughs. “Oh, is it?”

“Completely wrong.”

“And how would you know?”

“It’s different. ”

“Different how? Different from what hurting really looks like?” Stiles says harshly. “What makes you such an expert on this? Experience?”

“Yes,” Derek says calmly. A quiet sense of loss comes from the warm hand covering his eyes, and all the fight suddenly leaves him. He slumps into Derek’s arms and starts trembling.

“I’ve truly hurt people I love. You are different. You are not hurting any of them,” Derek says, every word a dagger he’s been torturing himself with. He wholeheartedly believes he’s guilty.

“You are not holding him back. You are the only thing that’s holding him together.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better,” Stiles says quietly.

Derek huffs. “Why would I do that? I don’t even like you.”

Stiles chokes out a laugh. “Asshole.”

“Now, would you let my son go and explain just what the fuck is happening?” His dad demands.

Belatedly he realizes that Derek just ignored his dad’s warning. His dad, the sheriff, who’s probably aiming a gun at Derek. Stiles laughs hysterically. It might have been the most dangerous thing Derek’s ever done, and they’ve been chased by a giant scorpion.

“Sorry, dad,” he says softly. “I’m okay now, sort of.”

“Keep your eyes closed,” Derek says. Stiles nods and lets Derek guide him to his dad.

“He’s been drugged. It’s a hallucinogen,” Derek explains in a level tone. Stiles is pretty sure it’s a lie. “He’s been given a pretty heavy dose, but it should wear off in about two or three hours. Don’t let him open his eyes.”

“How do you know that?” his dad asks, his voice hard.

“I’ve experienced it.”

He sounds vague. Stiles has no idea if he’s lying or not. His dad obviously has his doubts as well, but decides to leave it for now.

“I’m taking my son home. Deputy Grant will bring you in for questioning.”

Stiles lifts his head sharply. “Dad! He’s not - you can’t -”

Derek pushes Stiles into his dad’s arms. “I understand.”

“But -”

His dad holds him and put a dry kiss on his forehead. “It’s procedure. We’ll find the truth, but we need to bring him in.”

“I don’t like it. He doesn’t deserve this,” Stiles murmurs. He pulls away from his father and shouts at the direction he assumes Derek’s standing, “Do you hear me? You don’t deserve any of this, Derek Hale. I don’t care what you think, you are not responsible and you do not deserve any of this.”

“Wrong direction,” Derek says calmly.

Stiles turns to him and scoffs, “So not the point, buddy. Just wait. I’m gonna make you the best fucking burger you’ve ever had in your entire life when everything’s settled, and you’re going to love it so much you’ll wanna marry me.”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

Stiles points his finger at him blindly. “Don’t doubt me. My burgers are awesome.”

Derek lets out a brief but genuine laugh. Stiles fist-pumps and grins at him.

“Dude! You laugh! Score one for Stiles Stilinski!”

Derek snorts. “Stay out of trouble, Stiles.”

“You stay out of trouble.”

He can hear Derek’s low, brief laugh again before a car starts up and drives away. He wants that as his ringtone. It gives him a great sense of achievement.

“How long have you known him?” his dad asks dubiously. Stiles thinks for a second.

“Um, six days?”

“You two act like you’ve known each other for a while.”

Stiles shrugs. “It’s been very… eventful. We’ve yelled at each other a lot and bonded a little bit.”

His dad sighs. “Let’s just go home. You really scared me this time, son.”

His dad guides him out of the - room? space? - and someone tackles them with a tight hug. Stiles feels a head of fluffy hair buried into his neck.

“Stiles! God I was so worried.” Scott sniffs. Stiles pats his back.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner,” Scott says guiltily. “Was it Allison’s aunt?”

“The person who drugged you is Scott’s girlfriend’s aunt?” The sheriff puts him into a car and puts the seatbelt on for him.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Scott mumbles.

“Yet,” Stiles adds, because he has eyes and they’re not fooling anyone.

“Not the point,” his dad sighs. “Did Allison know? Or his father?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Her dad’s scary, but her aunt’s a special kind of crazy.”

“Jesus.” 

Stiles has to agree. This used to be a quiet town, and then suddenly every psychopath in the world comes to visit. “How did you find me?” Stiles asks.

“Hale called me,” the sheriff says. “He said you were in trouble. He didn’t tell me how he knew that. He just told me to look for, and I quote, ‘any incidents of electronic devices malfunctioning, or signal interference.’”

“He called you?” Stiles says incredulously. “And you just believed him?”

“I gave him the benefit of the doubt precisely because he, a fugitive, dared to just call me, the sheriff.” The sheriff sounds like he can’t quite believe what’s just happened. “And he did make it sound very urgent.”

“Huh,” Stiles says, not quite sure how to react.

“We did as he said and found an area with a lot of such incidents. We started searching the area but couldn’t find you. Then he showed up and ran straight into an abandoned train station, and the next thing I knew he was dragging you out of a carriage,” the sheriff says matter-of-factly. “I swear we’d searched through the station as well, but couldn’t find you. It’s odd.”

Yeah. Because he was in magical land at the time. “And Scott?”

“Your dad called me.” Scott says from the back seat. He puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and squeezes. “I’m so sorry. I was just upstairs. I should have noticed.”

Stiles put his hand on Scott’s. “Nah, man, even her own brother didn’t know what she was going to do. I bet she’s a pro.”

“What did she want?” the sheriff asks.

“She wanted to know what Derek’s been doing and how.” Stiles slumps into the seat, nuzzling Scott’s hand. Scott laughs. “She thinks Derek killed those men and is going after her. Derek thinks she did it and is going after him. I’m starting to think there’s a third person neither of them have thought of.”

The sheriff goes silent for a moment. “Okay, why does Derek think she killed them?”

“I think she had something to do with the fire,” Stiles says. His dad lets out a deep breath. He reaches out to hold his dad’s hand. “Derek didn’t outright tell me, but he sort of implied it. And Kate Argent has sort of threatened him. Everything he touches will turn to ashes, that sort of thing.”

Stiles can feel his dad tense up. He knows he’s getting angry. The Hale fire has always been a little personal for his dad. He’d spent years after the fire trying to find the truth before he finally let go. And he wasn’t lying when he told Derek his dad has always been worried about Derek and Laura.

“Things are getting a little too complicated for my liking,” the sheriff says. Stiles hums in agreement and squeezes his hand.

The sheriff was going to drop Scott at his home, but Scott insists he’s going to stay the night with Stiles. Otherwise he’s gonna have a nightmare and wake up screaming. Stiles fist bumps him. His dad relents and drives home.

Stiles finds out it’s kind of hard to do anything without opening his eyes, and it’s kind of freaking him out not being able to see anything, but he’s afraid of opening his eyes as well. He isn’t sure if he’s more afraid that he’ll see his mom or that he’s going to see nothing. He wonders how Derek could stay so calm yesterday, and what he saw when he used his Sight in the Hale house.

“Wait, why do I hear the oven working?” Stiles tries to grope his way to the kitchen, but it’s harder than he expects. He ends up slamming his head on… something. The cabinets, maybe.

“Are you okay?” Scott asks with a strained voice, like he’s trying hard not to laugh.

“Peachy.” Stiles grumbles. “Now I smell pizza. Will you stop my dad and find the vegan ones in the freezer and put one of those in instead?”

“You can’t stop me, son,” his dad yells from the kitchen.

“You are taking advantage of a person with disability,” he yells back. “I’m calling Mrs. McCall.”

“Dude,” Scott says. “You’re siccing my mom on your dad?”

“Well, it works every time.” Stiles finds Scott’s shoulder and claps it. “Now, go do my job for me.”

*

“Jesus, I think my nose has eaten more red sauce than my mouth,” Stiles says, wiping his nose with a napkin.

“Your proprioception is horrible,” Scott says cheerfully.

“Whoa, five syllables, Scott. I’m so proud of you,” Stiles teases. “Did you learn it with Allison? If so, she’s a genius teaching you English and I can finally retire.”

“I, that’s not- I mean I did learn that word from her but-” Scott splutters. Stiles chuckles and ruffles his hair.

“You know, I’m kind of curious what I’d see if I look at the pizzas right now. Would I see the ghosts of dead animals? The wrath of tomato?”

The sheriff snorts. “Or the blood and sweat of the exploited farmers.”

“Aw, don’t be so bitter, father mine,” Stiles drawls. “You have your own pizza. Isn’t it awesome?”

“This is not pizza. This is a piece of baked dough with a bunch of rabbit food on it,” his dad says. “You can have mine if you like it so much.”

Stiles waves his hand around. “Nah, I got kidnapped today. I need to be in a meat coma right now. I’ve heard it’s good for my soul.”

“Well, my son got kidnapped today. My soul’s pretty wounded as well,” the sheriff says in his most reasonable tone. Stiles laughs and shakes his head.

“Geez, all right, I’ll allow you to have one Meat Lovers and one Hawaiian.”

“Why, thank you.”

“I can hear your eye-rolling,” Stiles warns. “You should cut down the sarcasm. I’m sarcastic enough for the three of us.”

“Evidently,” his dad huffs. His cellphone rings and he picks it up. “Stilinski.”

Stiles can’t hear what the person on the other end is saying, and he can’t see his dad’s face. Not being able to see is kind of inconvenient in this kind of situation.

“All right. I’ll put you on speaker.”

Oh. That’s unexpected.

‘Stiles,’ Derek’s voice comes from the phone a little distorted.

“Hey, you’re using a phone! You are communicating with only your words and not relying on your eyebrows!” Stiles singsongs. He can picture Derek’s annoyed and judging eyebrows in his mind.

‘Shut up,’ Derek sighs exasperatedly. ‘Do you have the coat with you?’

In truth, he’s been snuggling with the coat since he got back. His dad’s been shooting suspicious questions at him for a while. What can he say? It makes him feel safe. “Yeah. Why?”

‘I called to tell you the drug should have worn off by now. You should put the coat around you and look at the necklace. It’s safe to look at, and the coat should be able to shield out everything else.’

“Um, sure.” Stiles swings the coat around his head, holds the necklace up, and cautiously cracks an eye open. It looks just like a normal necklace. A necklace so valuable it might cost more than his liver, but normal.

“Awesome, everything’s back to normal now. Well, relatively speaking.”

Stiles drops his hands and puts the coat around his shoulder. His dad gives him a weird look. Stiles just shrugs. It’s like his new security blanket.

“Nothing is making any sense anymore,” the sheriff mutters. “Just what the hell is this drug?”

‘It gives him visions of the world as he perceives it. He thinks he’s hurting you, so he saw you being hurt by him.’ It sounds like a lie he’s told dozens of time. The perks of being a wizard, probably.

Stiles is pretty sure the drug somehow makes him see what a wizard can see with their Sight. If he’s right, and he think he is, then Derek should have gone mad a long time ago, considering he uses his Sight on _everyone_.

Derek Hale, the biggest self-torturing dumbass.

And he’s pretty sure Derek’s telling him he’s being a dumbass as well with the whole perspective thing.

Someone calls Derek’s name in the background. ’I need to go. I only asked for three minutes.’

“How did you even make them agree to let you have a phone call?” Stiles asks. “With your eyebrows? Or your intimidating abs?”

Stiles is pretty sure he’s rolling his eyes, hard. ‘I asked nicely. Because I am capable of being polite.’

“Aw, you remember what I said,” Stiles coos. Derek huffs.

‘Get some rest. Keep the necklace on. Take the coat when you go out. Run for your life if you see Kate.’

“Is that a poem? It sounds like a poem. Did you just read me a poem with my dad listening?” Stiles teases. “That’s very romantic. Thank you.”

‘You’re ridiculous.’

“Your eyebrows are ridiculous,” Stiles retorts.

Derek snorts. ‘Go to bed.’

“And don’t you die.”

‘Okay,’ Derek says simply and hangs up.

“I feel like I’ve missed something.” The sheriff stares at him.

“Not really?” Stiles says innocently.

“What’s that necklace?”

“Lucky charm?”

The sheriff squints at him. “I’ll go easy on you tonight, but you’re going to tell me everything someday.”

“Hm,” Stiles says noncommittally.

That night he snuggles with Scott in his bed, because they are the kind of friends who snuggle with each other sometimes. He fills Scott in on everything that’s happened for the past few days. Scott looks at him with wide eyes as he listens.

“Dude, it’s like a summer blockbuster! There’s mysteries, crazy bad guys, monsters and magic and stuff. We’re in a Marvel movie.”

Stiles chuckles. “Well, then it’s not as awesome as we’d imagined. Pretty sure I’ve torn some muscles I didn’t even know existed.”

Scott punches his shoulder lightly. “You’re doing great. You’re well on your way to becoming a superhero.”

“Nah, I’m more like a sidekick.”

“No way, man, you’ve saved him like, I’m not sure how many times? Four? Five?”

“Depends on how you define saving.” Stiles shrugs. “He’s saved me a couple of times as well, directly and indirectly.”

“Well, you can both be the hero then. It’s Marvel after all.”

Stiles laughs lightly. Scott beams at him.

They start talking about school and Scott starts talking about his time in the library with Allison. Apparently Scott’s made circles with flower petals and no one has questioned him or thrown him out. That’s actually pretty smart. Stiles is impressed. And Allison apparently likes him enough to accept the overly sappy romantic gesture and doesn’t question him, or maybe she’s just sappy like that herself. Either way she sounds pretty awesome.

“You really think she knows nothing about her aunt, right?” Scott asks nervously. “You think she’s really herself?”

“Yeah, I think so,” he reassures him. “She likes you, you know? She looks at you the same way you look at her.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Scott smiles the most brilliant smile Stiles has ever seen, and Stiles can’t help but smile with him. He grabs Scott arms to ensure nothing’s gonna get killed, and Scott’s emotions flow in. It’s bright, innocent, and pure. He’s just so damn happy with the simple knowledge that the person he loves might love him back. Stiles wonders if everyone feels the same when they fall in love. He wonders how anyone can let himself be so open and vulnerable.

“Yeah, you’ll be great together.”

He smiles at Scott and closes his eyes.

 

 


	6. Heart

Stiles slips into the detention area. It’s a quiet night. (To be fair, Beacon County used to be a quiet town.) There’s no one else being held in custody here. Maybe the drunk tank is full. Who knows. He finds Derek at the far end of the room, sitting on the floor, resting his head on his knees.

“Yo.”

Derek’s head snaps up. “What.”

“Geez, no hello? I’m wounded, Derek.”

Derek stares at him.

“Fine, I want to ask you some questions.” Stiles sits down on the ground and crosses his legs. “You have the right to remain silent, but it makes me feel like I’m playing charades. I’d rather you use your words.”

Derek shrugs.

Stiles rolls his eyes at him. “Whatever. I’m awesome at charades.” He takes out a photo of Kyle Anderson and shows it to Derek. “Know anything about him?”

Derek leans in to take a better look at the photo. “The bookshop owner?”

“Yeah. I want to know how he’s connected to the fire. Pretty sure he is.”

“He owned some very rare spellbooks.”

“Um, so are there any rare spells involved in the fire?”

Derek pauses. “It’s likely.”

“Okay, and Myers covered up the fire. Two down. Revenge still seems the most likely motive, but why would the same person kill Laura?”

Derek arches his eyebrow. “You don’t think it’s Kate.”

“No? I mean, she must be pretty desperate to just kidnap me like that.” Stiles shivers at the memory. He’s gonna have nightmares about her for a good long while. “She seemed real convinced that it’s you. I think she really doesn’t know about the murders. And I think she’s right about her being a target.”

“So you think it’s me.”

Stiles hits his forehead on the cell door and groans. “No, moron. Will you stop thinking that no one’s on your side? I know it’s not you.”

Derek frowns at him. “How?”

Stiles stares at him. “Seriously? You’re asking me that now?”

Derek shrugs. Stiles resists the urge to reach in and shake some sense into him. “I’m not blind or stupid, all right? I can see you’re a good person. You’re just terrible at showing it. Besides, you can’t use your magic properly right now. There’s no way you could perform a spell that powerful.”

Derek stares at his hands for a while. “I’m not a good person.”

“You are,” Stiles scoffs. “You protect people, even though you do it in kind of an asshole way.”

Derek doesn’t answer. Stiles rubs his temple and sighs. “Anyway, I think it’s neither of you. I think the killer is leaving Kate to the last. She’s the main brain behind the fire, right?”

Derek looks up at him. “How do you -”

“I don’t. Just a feeling.” Stiles shrugs. “There might be someone else involved in the fire. Our best lead is to find them.”

Derek taps his fingers on the floor. “Laura was investigating the fire.”

“Yeah, I took a look at her notebook. I didn’t think she was actually writing about making cake.” Stiles takes out a piece of paper and slips it to Derek. He’d replicated Laura’s “recipe” earlier.

“It’s not complex. I think she intended for you to have it. Under the ingredients she wrote kiwi, sugar, and apple, which don’t really make a cake, but it’s Anderson’s initials. Then she wrote about covering the cake with fondant gently and meticulously, which is totally weird and an unnecessary use of adverbs. Myers.” Stiles reaches in to point at the right bottom corner of the paper. “What we need to figure out is this. Here she wrote cleaning the tray with Chemistry, capital C. I don’t think it’s an initial. Someone related to chemistry who was responsible for the ‘cleaning’ of the fire. Any ideas?”

Derek blinks at him. Stiles smirks.

“Told you I’m not stupid. Not that this was hard to figure out, because it really wasn’t. Even Scott could figure this out given enough time.”

Derek tilts his head and stares at the ceiling. “Adrian Harris.”

Stiles gapes at him. “Our chemistry teacher?”

Derek nods. “He specializes in cleaning magical residue. The council didn’t find any trace of magic after the fire. It could be him.”

“Okay. I can just confront him at school or something. Should be easy enough.”

Derek’s suddenly inches away from him and grabbing his fingers. He looks dead serious. “No. Leave it to the police.”

“The police can’t do anything until we have some evidence.” Stiles blinks at him, distracted by Derek’s eyelashes and slightly chapped lips. Under all the eyebrows and stubble he has surprisingly delicate features, and his lips looks soft - Nope, totally inappropriate timing. Stop. “We’ll be at school. He won’t do anything to me.”

“He can give you detention and get you alone.”

“That sounds like a porn.” Stiles scrunches up his nose. “Ew, why did I give myself that image.”

Derek shoots him a withering glare.

“Fine, I’ll just politely ask him some ambiguous questions,” Stile says. “He’s out and proud about his magic in your world, right?”

Derek gives him a blank look. “What.”

“Your people know about him? He’s offered his cleaning services to others?”

“I think so.”

Stiles shrugs. “Then I’ll just ask him to clean something up for me and see where it goes.”

Derek looks at him silently for a little while. “Don’t alert him.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.” Stiles reaches in and pats Derek’s cheek. Derek swats his hand away and reaches out to flick his forehead.

Stiles stares at him in stunned silence.

Derek ducks his head and scowls. Stiles is pretty sure he’s trying really hard not to laugh.

“You can’t fool me, Derek Hale. You’re laughing. Score two for Stiles Stilinski.” Stiles points his finger at his face. Derek pushes his hand away.

“You’re going to keep counting?”

“Yeah, and I’m gonna treat myself with curly fries when I make it to ten. That’s a huge accomplishment in human history.”

Derek shakes his head, his lips quirking up slightly. One day Stiles is going to make him laugh without suppressing himself. It’s going to happen.

Stiles moves to sit beside Derek, their shoulders separated by the door. “So I, uh, haven’t thanked you for saving my ass again.”

Derek glances at him. “No need.”

“Nah, man, I can’t imagine what would have happened if she’d gotten my Name,” Stiles says. “Actually, what would happen?”

“She’d be able to control you.”

Stiles shudders. “That’d be terrible. She’s evil.”

Derek leans against the door, staring at the wall with a faraway look. “Yeah.”

“And uh, I think she has my blood?”

Derek turns to him sharply. “How much?”

Stiles feels his stomach drop at the grim expression before him. This can’t be good. “Not much. A couple drops, I think.”

Derek presses his lips together. “She shouldn’t be able to do anything other than track you with it.”

Yeah, about that.

“How did you know I was in trouble?” Stiles asks. Derek simply points at the necklace.

“Is it monitoring my vitals or something?”

Derek shakes his head. “It detects magic. I felt you surrounded by a lot, much more than average in the mundane world, so I guessed you’d been taken to Nevernever.”

Stiles laughs. “Is that what it’s called? That sounds like something from a Shrek movie.”

Derek snorts. “Wizards are terrible at naming things.”

“No shit. You just find a normal noun and change the first letter into a capital. Name, Sight, Way, what else?” Stiles turns his head slightly to look at Derek’s profile. “Listen? Smell? Speak? Door?”

Derek makes a contemplating noise. “Some do call concentrating on listening Listen.”

“Oh god.” Stiles chokes out a laugh. “How is that even different from listening carefully?”

“Some of us are better at tuning out noises.” Derek closes his eyes. “I can hear your heartbeat now.”

“That’s creepy,” Stiles says. “Awesome but creepy.”

Derek shrugs. “It’s useful.”

“Yeah, for doing creepy things,” Stiles teases. It feels nice, sitting here, talking with Derek. Sure they are in a odd place for having a talk, but it makes his heart settle down, which is kind of weird if he thinks about it. Almost every time he’s seen Derek there’s been an emergency or imminent death waiting. He should be conditioned to feel terrified whenever he sees him, but mainly he just feels safe. Maybe his brain is wired wrong, or maybe it’s because Derek was there to save him when he was the most terrified he’d been since he was eight.

“Is it possible to make someone forget something with magic?” Stiles asks quietly.

Derek glances at him before looking back at the wall, picking up on the change in his tone. “Yes.”

Stiles leans in to rest his head on the door, the iron bars cool against his cheek. He isn’t sure why he’s telling him this, but he can’t exactly talk about it with anyone else. “She threatened to make me forget my mom.”

Derek’s shoulders tense up.

“I was terrified, you know. I wasn’t even that scared when the giant scorpion was trying to kill us.” He holds the necklace in his hand. The warmth is calming. “It’s weird.”

“It’s not,” Derek says quietly, like he understands. Of course he does.

“I just, don’t understand how she could do this, you know?” Stiles hugs his knees to his chest and rests his chin on his arms. “She doesn’t feel any regret. None.”

“She’ll do anything to get to my family.”

“But why?”

“It’s complicated.”

Stiles sighs. Everything about him is complicated. “I’m good at complicated.”

He expects Derek to just say his favorite phrase “no,” but instead, what he says is “Someday, maybe.”

It makes him ridiculously happy.

He reaches in and holds his pinky out. “Pinky promise?”

Derek snorts. “Are you eight?”

“Twelve, according to my last psych evaluation.” He wiggles his pinky at him.

Derek grabs his finger. “Shouldn’t go around doing this, either.”

Stiles squints at him. “What, is a pinky promise magical or something?”

“It gets complicated when you run into faeries.”

Stiles sighs. “Jesus, there are so many rules in your world it’s ridiculous.”

Derek shrugs and lets his hand go.

“How strong is a promise made with a real Name though?”

“For us, the cost of breaking it would be all our magic.” Derek absently rubs the bracelet on his wrist. Stiles hates that bracelet with a burning passion. “For you, I’m not sure.”

“Cause you don’t know what I am.”

Derek nods.

“If I’m just a normal human?”

“Then not at all.” Derek says. “But if you’re a supernatural being, you’d be bound by it.”

“So now you don’t think I’m a threat because I’m either an unbound helpless human, a bound wizard, or a bound supernatural whatever.”

Derek opens his mouth to say something, but closes it before he says it. Is it wishful thinking to think that Derek wants to correct him, that he at least trusts him enough now?

“Your trust issues have trust issues. You have a colony of trust issues and they are having trust issue babies.”

Derek gives him an arched eyebrow.

“It sounded better in my head.”

Derek huffs.

“It’s all right though. I kind of understand where that comes from. Kate Argent could fuck anyone up. I screamed when a blonde woman tapped my shoulder today.” She was just going to ask him where the supermarket was. He screamed like a girl and almost gave her a heart attack. It was not his best moment.

Derek clenches his fist. The bracelet glows slightly and his breath quickens. Stiles reaches out reflexively but stops before he touches him. “May I?”

Derek shakes his head and takes a deep breath. Stiles pulls his hand back and settles it on Derek’s shoulder instead.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you remember.”

Derek lets out the breath he’s been holding. “It’s fine.”

The bracelet has stopped glowing, but Derek’s fingers are still twitching and his shoulder still tensed. Stiles squeezes his shoulder lightly. Derek doesn’t lean in, but he doesn’t pull away either.

“You know, I’ve never hated anyone the way I hate her now.”

“Hard not to.”

“Yeah.” Stiles pulls the coat tighter around him. “If she’s on the edge of dying, I think I’ll push her off instead of pulling her in. It’s kind of terrifying.”

The thing is, he will. He really will. If they find the killer and the killer’s about to kill Kate, he’ll let it happen.

It’s scary to discover this side of himself. He’s not entirely sure what he’ll be capable of if someone ever hurts his dad or Scott. Hell, he’s not sure what he’ll do if someone kills Derek.

“She has that effect on people.” Derek smiles bitterly.

Stiles lies back and stares at the ceiling. “My therapist would have a field day with her.”

They stay like that for a while. It’s soothing, the quietness. Normally he can’t stand it. He’s had too much silence in his life and his thoughts are always too loud. But Derek’s silence has a presence. It somehow fills the air and quiets his head down.

He falls asleep at some point.

When he wakes up it’s with a strong hand on his shoulder and his dad’s reluctant smile before him. He yelps and his dad quickly covers his mouth before pointing at the soundly asleep Derek, and drags him out.

“Um, what time is it?” Stiles asks sheepishly.

“Nine o’clock,” his dad answers, crossing his arms.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to stay this long.”

The sheriff sighs. “Technically you shouldn’t even be here.”

“Yeah, just, you know, wanted to ask him something.” Stiles scratches his head. “Sorta got sidetracked and at one point we started to talk about my feelings. It’s kind of surreal.”

The sheriff raises an eyebrow. “Feelings?”

Stiles gives him a horrified look. “Not that kind of feelings!”

The sheriff quirks his lips and shakes his head. “When I told you to remember other people are human beings too, this is not what I expected.”

Stiles shrugs. “Honestly, me neither.”

“So, good talk?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Very subtle, dad.”

“What, is there something I shouldn’t know about?”

“Just asked him if he knows Anderson. He said it’s not impossible that Anderson was involved in the fire.”

The sheriff gives him a sideway glance. “Not impossible. That’s vague.”

Stiles shrugs. “He’s not sure.”

“All right, anything else you want to tell me?”

“Um, no?”

The sheriff frowns at him. “Just how did you become friends with him?”

Stiles frowns back. “Are we friends now? I didn’t get the memo.”

The sheriff rolls his eyes. “He was really worried about you. He got arrested because he was worried about you.”

“Pretty sure he’ll be worried as long as I’m not trying to kill him. He has really low expectations of people.”

“Well, I don’t see him going around talking about feelings with other people.”

That’s kind of true. Stiles wonders what exactly Derek thinks of him. He thinks he no longer suspects him of planting the heart, but he hesitates to call them friends, mainly because Derek will probably run away if he hears it.

“I think it’s just, I refuse to leave him alone?” Stiles suggests. “He’s told me to leave almost every time we’ve met. Always when he obviously needed someone though, so I didn’t listen.”

The sheriff snorts and squeezes his shoulder. “Yeah, sounds like you.”

Stiles grins at him. His dad chuckles and guides him to the front desk. “You should go home. You still have school tomorrow.”

“You know, school actually doesn’t sound so bad right now,” Stiles says as he puts on the leather coat under his dad’s suspicious eyes. His dad still can’t get over the fact that he started wearing Derek’s coat everywhere. To be fair, Stiles can’t really give him a reason other than it’s warm. “It’s much better than being kidnapped.”

The sheriff pulls him into a tight hug. “Stay home and lock everything.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

His dad calls a deputy over to drive him home. Stiles sleeps with the coat on again.

*

On Monday he meets up with Scott and explains what he needs to ask Harris. Scott’s worried, and insists on tagging along, sacrificing his time with Allison, which is a grown-up thing to do and Stiles is very proud. At lunch they see Allison sitting with Lydia and Jackson. Stiles finds another table and tells Scott to go ahead if he wants to. Scott looks over at their table longingly, but sits down next to Stiles in the end.

“Love you bro,” Stiles says with feelings.

Scott snorts and punches his ribs.

To their surprise and Scott’s utmost delight, Allison stands up and brings her plate over to sit across from them.

“Stiles,” she calls, voice hesitant. “I’m sorry.”

Stiles blinks at her. “Um, what for?”

“The police came yesterday. I - I really didn’t know my aunt was like that.” She bites her bottom lip and reaches out to hold his hand. “Why would she do this? I don’t understand.”

She sounds absolutely heartbroken. From what Scott’s told him, Allison adored her aunt. She was like a sister she never had and a best friend who knew everything, and Kate had always been supportive of her, because Allison no longer has her mom and sometimes her dad just doesn’t understand. Does Kate truly care about her family? Stiles isn’t sure. He only knows she’s capable of horrible things.

“Yeah, I don’t understand either,” he says softly and gives her hand a squeeze. He can feel a trickle of confusion mixed with sadness flow into him. Oh. Okay, that makes sense. Allison does come from a magical family. It still feels pretty distant, though. Maybe she’s a late-boomer like Scott’s supposed to be.

“You shouldn’t be sorry,” Stiles tells her. “She hurts people. You don’t. It’s not anyone’s responsibility but hers.”

Allison nods and gives him a small smile. It’s warm and infectious. Stiles can see why Scott’s falling in love with her.

“Tell me if I can do anything for you?” Allison asks.

Stiles cups his chin with both his hands and does his best to keep a straight face. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about a makeover lately. You can be my fashion guru. You seem like you know what you’re doing. You always look fabulous.”

Allison giggles and slaps his hand playfully. “Flatterer. Bet you say that to every girl you met.”

“And boy. I’m generous like that.” Stiles wriggles his eyebrows at her. “Can you do something with Scott’s hair though? He looks like a stray dog.”

“Hey!” Scott protests, stealing Stiles’ fries as retaliation.

“I love you, buddy, but most of the time I can’t even see your eyes.” Stiles sighs dramatically and steals his fried chicken.

“I like your eyes,” Allison dimples at Scott. Scott’s face splits into a wide grin and he accidentally shoves a fry at his cheek. She chuckles and reaches over the table to wipe the ketchup away with a napkin.

“Do you really have to do that when I’m here? You know, forever single Stiles Stilinski?” Stiles grumbles, but in truth he’s just too happy for them to feel envious. “I’m getting cavities here.”

Scott blushes furiously and steals a glance at Allison. “Stiles, I haven’t-”

Allison chuckles and slips her hand into his, interlocking their fingers. “Be my boyfriend?”

“What? I mean, of course. I-” Scott splutters and almost knocks down his water with his elbow. “I was going to ask you tomorrow!”

Allison laughs and leans in to plant a chaste kiss on Scott’s lips. Scott widens his eyes and breaks into a bright smile. Stiles grabs Scott’s arm just in time to stop him from blacking out the whole building, and gets hit by the biggest love bomb he’s gotten from Scott so far. He feels drunk from secondhand happiness.

“I’m happy for both of you.” He reaches out for Allison and when Allison takes his hand, he feels the same warmth flow in. Hers is not as bright, but just as pure. “Really happy.” 

“Thanks, man,” Scott says sincerely.

“You’re a great guy, Stiles. You’ll find someone.” Allison squeezes his hand before pulling away.

Stiles shrugs. “Maybe. People don’t really notice me though.”

“That’s their loss,” Allison says.

Stiles looks over at Lydia and Jackson. He can’t imagine himself instead of Jackson sitting beside her. He’s used to being ignored by her. He doesn’t exist in her world.

Allison follows his line of sight and sees who he’s looking at. “I hope you’re not looking at Jackson.” Allison pouts. “He’s a jerk. I don’t know how Lydia puts up with him.”

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, not him.”

“So you like Lydia?” Allison asks. Stiles sighs.

“Since I was twelve. It’s pathetic. She doesn’t acknowledge my existence. My ten year plan is going nowhere.”

“I can introduce you,” Allison suggests.

“It’s nice of you, really, but nah,” Stiles waves his hand and slumps onto the table. “She has Jackson, who’s definitely gonna kill me if I dare to approach her. I’m not feeling like getting beat up right now. Maybe later.”

Allison frowns. “Is he hurting you?”

It’s nice, having someone other than Scott and his dad being protective of him.

“Not anymore.” Stiles shrugs. “Since he got together with Lydia he mainly just looms over me and promises me a horrible death. Then I got taller than him, which must have really pissed him off. Now he just sort of shoves me around every now and then and throws insults at me.”

“That’s stupid,” Allison mutters.

Stiles quirks his lips. “Well, that’s high school in a nutshell.”

They part ways after lunch. Stiles and Scott have chemistry together, which is both fortunate and unfortunate. Fortunate because it makes it easier to approach Harris. Unfortunate because Harris absolutely hates him. Well, he hates pretty much everyone, but Stiles especially.

“What do you want?” Harris glares at Stiles like stopping him from leaving is the most unforgivable crime.

“So, someone told me to talk to you if I have some occult problem?” Stiles asks innocently. “You know, something in my house is giving out a really weird vibe. It feels… sticky.”

Harris narrows his eyes at him. “Who told you?”

“Um... ” Stiles thinks about every magical person he knows of, which isn’t that many, really. Why didn’t he think of this when he was coming up with the cover story yesterday? “Kyle Anderson? You know, the owner of the bookstore? I went to him for help, but then he... Oh my god is that my fault? Did I bring something to him or what?” Stiles stares at him with wide eyes and flails his arms around. He hopes he’s not overdoing it too much. Good thing he’s always a little overdramatic in public.

“Quiet,” Harris hisses. “What is this thing?”

“A wooden statue,” Stiles answers. He’d gone over this yesterday, but he isn’t really sure if it sounds legit. He can only hope for the best. “I bought it at a flea market.”

Harris frowns at him. “Where did the wood come from?”

“Um, I don’t know? I didn’t ask.” Stiles pretends to think about it. “I only know she found her material herself, so maybe the preserve?”

For a second Harris looks terrified. He covers it quickly, but Stiles doesn’t miss it.

“Burn it,” Harris says forcefully.

“But -”

“No buts,” Harris cuts him off. “Burn it and flush the ashes.”

“Okay,” Stiles says reluctantly. “Fine. It’s only five bucks anyway.”

“Who’s the artist?” Harris demands.

“I didn’t catch her name.”

“Dark long hair, hazel eyes, has a bracelet on her wrist?” he asks. Stiles frowns at him, who’s he - oh. He thinks it’s Laura. He thinks Laura killed Myers and Anderson with her nonexistent statue. It’s perfect. He can’t come up with a better story himself.

“I think so? It’s been a few weeks. I can’t remember that clearly.”

Harris grabs both of his shoulder and half yells at him. “Burn it immediately.”

Stiles holds up his hands and takes a step back. “All right, geez. Will you calm down?”

It seems he won’t. Harris starts panting heavily and his whole body flushes red. He clutches his shirt and sweats start popping out on his forehead. He looks like he’s having a heart attack. His dad has looked just like that -

“Jesus Christ -” Stiles panics and reaches out without thinking to grab his hand. He feels something cold and slimy crawl into him and take hold of his heart. He can only call out Scott’s name before he falls to the floor. The only things he can feel are the overwhelming hate of a man trying to crush his heart, and the warmth of the pendant against his chest trying to stop it.

He probably should be more careful about touching other people these days.

“Stiles!” Scott yells. 

Stiles tries to turn his head to him. He can only see his shoes. 

“What have you done to him?”

The lights go off and fire starts coming out of Scott. The air around them starts shaking violently, and Harris falls down after a loud thump. Stiles wants to reach out to Scott, or say something to calm him down, but he can’t move, not even his lips.

“Scott, what’s happening? Why's Mr. Harris -” Allison asks from outside his vision. “Oh god, Stiles! What’s wrong?”

She bents down and takes his face into her hands. Stiles can only blink at her. He wants to tell her to calm Scott down. She needs to calm him down before he hurts someone else, before he hurts himself.

“Scott!” she yells at him. “We need to help him!”

Stiles would kiss her right now if he could. She’s a goddess and Scott’s stopped shooting fire and knelt down to look at him. Stiles feels a strange pull and looks down to avoid eye contact. Is this what Soulgaze feels like? Either way he can’t risk it now.

“Hang on, Stiles, please. I’m gonna find someone to help you. You’ll be fine,” Scott babbles and squeezes his hand so tight it should have hurt, but Stiles can’t feel anything but the agonizing pain in his chest. “Allison, can you find your dad?”

Stiles wants to protest, but he can’t. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe Chris is a decent human being. Allison will be with him. She won’t let her dad hurt him.

“I’ll call him,” she stands up. “Shit, my phone - I’m going to find one that works.”

“Call the sheriff as well,” Scott adds. “Tell him we need Derek Hale.”

He wonders how his dad will react. Will he let Derek out? Will he let Stiles in?

“Stiles, stay with me, please. I can’t lose you. Don’t do this to me,” Scott murmurs, tears streaking down his cheeks. Stiles hates seeing Scott cry. He hates being the reason Scott’s crying even more. He’s the worst friend in the world.

“I can’t reach my dad, and his dad’s not at the station,” Allison says after she rushes back. “The deputy says someone broke out of the jail and the sheriff chased after him.”

Oh god. It’s Derek, isn’t it. It’s just like him, doing something reckless and complicating everything. Frankly Stiles isn’t much better himself, or he wouldn’t be in this mess right now.

“Fuck, I don’t - I don’t know what to do,” Scott cries out and starts shaking. Allison finds his hand and holds it.

“Scott, he needs you now, okay?” she says quietly but firmly. “He needs you here with him. The ambulance is on its way. The police have notified the sheriff. Help is coming. You need to be strong for him.”

Scott nods weakly and takes Stiles’ hand in both of his. Allison puts her hand on Scott’s thigh, grounding him. Scott would be fine if he dies, Stiles thinks to himself. He’d be devastated, but Allison would be there for him. Eventually he’d be able to move on.

He isn't sure how much time has passed. He keeps slipping in and out of consciousness. Eventually the door's slammed open and a pair of boots not so unfamiliar anymore step into the room.

“You fucking idiot!” Derek yells and marches toward him. Derek? How? What? Stiles tries to sit up, or even just squirm a little bit, but he can’t do anything. Derek drops down on his knees and grabs his collar with his bloody hands, chanting, the bracelet on his wrist glowing brightly.

Stiles wants to stop him. Yell at him to stop hurting himself. But as the warmth in his chest grows brighter and the grip on his heart lessens, his treacherous body decides it feels nice and chooses this moment to pass out.

 


	7. Run

The first thing he sees is Scott’s goofy grin.

Correction: A printed photo of Scott’s goofy grin hanging from the ceiling.

Stiles blinks in confusion. His vision is still a little blurry, but he can make out the white wall and smell the distinctive smell of a hospital. Next to him there’s Derek on another bed, handcuffed to the rails, an IV in his left arm.

Stiles looks down and sees himself in a patient gown, the necklace on his chest, warm and solid.

“He insisted you needed to keep the necklace on you,” his dad’s voice comes from the door. Stiles jumps a little, trying to sit up, but can’t quite muster the strength to do so.

“What about the-” He starts coughing. His throat hurts and his mouth feels as dry as a desert. His dad walks up to him and pours a cup of water for him. He adjusts the bed to help him sit up and puts the straw in his mouth. Stiles sips carefully.

“Thanks,” he croaks. His dad nods, wordlessly goes to the closet, and takes the leather coat out. Stiles tries not to make grabby-hands at him, but his dad seems to know how he feels anyway. He strides across the room and lays the coat on him.

Stiles gives up the pretense and hugs the coat to his chest. “How long was I out?”

“A night. It’s Tuesday morning now.”

“I feel like I’ve missed a lot of things,” he mumbles.

“Nothing good, I assure you.”

“Um, what happened?”

“They said you had a heart attack.”

Stiles frowns. “How could I have a heart attack? I’m sixteen. I’ve never had heart problems.”

The sheriff sits beside the bed. “That’s exactly what I told them. They said they have no idea. They aren’t even sure what the cause of the heart attack is, only that your heart stopped beating properly for a while.”

Stiles stares at the ceiling, trying to recall what happened. He remembers something gripping his heart, and that something had come from Harris. Oh Christ, he accidentally risked his life to save Harris, didn’t he? Harris was just about to die like Myers and Anderson had. “Um, and Derek?”

The sheriff rubs his temple tiredly. “They said he’s lost a lot of blood, but there’s no visible wounds on him. And there’s no sign of him coughing blood or anything either. No one knows exactly what happened.”

Stiles does. Derek apparently ignored the bracelet that was causing him pain and making him bleed, and just kept helping him with his magic until he passed out. Stiles has no idea how he feels about that. Sure he’s grateful he’s still alive, and he really cannot fucking repay what Derek’s done for him, but it’s still really fucking stupid for Derek to use his magic until he almost bleeds out. He could have waited for Chris or something. There must have been a better way, a less self-sacrificing way.

“Christ.”

The sheriff sighs heavily. “You almost die, and he just happens to break out of the prison at that moment and bleed all over you? Just tell me, Stiles, what the hell is going on?”

Should he tell his dad? Is it his place to tell? He doesn’t think so. Besides, his dad will no doubt get himself involved if he knows everything. He can’t have people like Kate Argent going after his dad.

“I’m not the best person to ask, since I was busy passing out and everything.” Stiles scratches his neck. “Um, he broke out?”

“I don’t know how. He broke the whole door and ran out. And then he just disappeared.” The sheriff stared at Derek’s face like there might be an answer somewhere. “There’s plenty of his blood in the cell as well.”

“That’s… odd.”

The sheriff huffs. “Very.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

“Scott said he was really sorry he couldn’t be here, so he hung this thing.” The sheriff points at the photo of Scott. “Allison went home with her dad, but she said she’d come back today to visit you.”

He’s just going to ask about Harris, but he stops himself. Was Harris still there when the police arrived? Scott knocked him unconscious. If the police know, his dad would have said something. He wouldn’t hide it if Scott had been arrested.

“Huh, okay.”

The sheriff grabs his hand and holds it. “Christ, son, just how do I keep you safe?”

“I’d like to know that myself.” Stiles put his other hand on top of his dad’s. “Don’t worry too much, dad. Maybe it was just a stress thing?”

The sheriff sighs. “I don’t like seeing you in the hospital.”

They never really talk about his mom, but he knows what his dad really means. There’s too much memory, too many ghosts in this place for both of them.

“Yeah, me neither,” Stiles says softly. “Be careful and don’t end up in here yourself, all right? My heart can’t take it.”

His dad gives him a withering look. Stiles smiles at him sheepishly.

“Too soon?”

His dad sighs and cuffs his head before standing up. “I need to go back to the station. It’s a mess right now. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Yes sir.” Stiles gives him a mock salute. The sheriff snorts and walks out of the room. Chris Argent walks in right after that with a worried Allison.

“Stiles! Thank god you’re okay.” Allison rushes to his side and holds his hand. Chris stands at the end of the bed, watching them with wary eyes.

“Thanks, Allison. You’re the best.” Stiles grins at her and covers her hand with his other one. “How’s Scott?”

“He’s at home, too unstable to come visit you.” Allison presses her lips together and throws her dad a glance. “I still have a hard time wrapping my head around all this.”

“Oh, you didn’t know at all?” Stiles asks. “Not the best way to find out.”

Chris glares at him at that. Stiles ignores him in favor of giving Allison a reassuring smile. “I’m a little overwhelmed as well. I think they’re all allergic to straight answers.”

Allison chuckles and sits down on the edge of the bed. “I thought he was a secret agent or something, because we kept moving around and he insisted he was just an accountant.”

Stiles snickers at the image of Chris doing accounting, which earns him another glare.

“Stop trying to kill him with your eyes, dad,” Allison chastises him. Chris puts his hands on her shoulders and pulls lightly.

“You should keep some distance from him.”

Stiles snorts. “What, you think I’m contagious?”

“No.” Chris glances at Derek and then back at him. “But you could be dangerous.”

Stiles laughs. “Oh, that’s rich. You think Derek might be responsible, and you think I’m his accomplice.”

“You both are suspects,” Chris says. “I won’t take the risk.”

“Dad,” Allison warns. “We’ve talked about this.”

“I’m trying to protect you.” Chris frowns and puts his arm between her and Stiles. “We have no idea what he is. I can’t see him.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get that a lot lately.” Stiles rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back. “Just a suggestion: maybe you should start concerning yourself with what I do instead of what I am. Look what your sister’s capable of.”

Chris purses his lips and casts his eyes downward. “What she has done is unforgivable. I was wrong to stand beside her. But you could still be involved with the murders.”

“Yeah, I unwittingly saved one of the victims and almost died in the process. And Derek almost bled to death to save me. Sure, we could be involved.” Stiles is tired. He really can’t deal with all this right now. “No offense, Allison, but your dad can be really dense sometimes.”

“That’s what I told him, too.” Allison ducks under Chris’ arm and gives Stiles a hug, staring defiantly at her dad. Chris sighs and rubs his face roughly.

“How did you save him?” Chris asks.

“I presume you have Harris.”

Chris nods. “He confessed to cleaning up the scene of the fire.”

“How’s he?”

“Shaken, but fine.” Chris looms over him. ”He said he felt dark magic seizing his heart, but then it went away.”

“It went in me,” Stiles says and takes Allison’s hand. “Use your Sight.”

Chris narrows his eyes at him, unblinking. Stiles shakes his head and adds, “Please?”

Chris gives him a look before closing his eyes and reopening them.

“Great.” Stiles turns to Allison. “Think about Scott, Allison.”

“Okay?” Allison gives him a questioning look, but doesn’t ask anything. She doesn’t look completely gone like Scott does when he’s thinking about her, but she has this soft, warm smile that lights up her entire face. Stiles feels a steady stream of warmth flowing into him.

“What are you-” Chris reaches out to hold Allison’s wrist. It looks like he’s going to pull her hand away, so Stiles saves him the trouble and pulls his hand back.

“I have no idea why I can do that. I just can.” Stiles tries to sit up further. Allison helps him up and puts a pillow behind his back. He gives her a grateful smile. “Derek doesn’t know why either, and no, he didn’t use me to do anything.”

Chris is silent for a while, and then he takes a step back. “Very well. I’ll take your word for it for now.”

“Thank you,” Stiles says dryly. “Anything else I can help you with?”

Chris shakes his head.

“All right, just stop wasting your time. Go track down the real killer - or your sister.” Stiles rubs his eyes tiredly. “Ask Allison if you need someone else’s opinion.”

“I’ll tell Scott you’re awake.” Allison smiles and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Get well soon. Scott will be miserable without you.”

“Nah, pretty sure time flies whenever he’s with you.” He’ll be fine if I die, Stiles remembers himself thinking. He’s relieved, knowing someone will take care of Scott if anything happens. A little lonely, but mostly relieved.

“I’ll miss you too,” Allison says seriously. “I’ll keep Scott alive and come back after school with your homework.”

Stiles grins at her. “Thanks, Allison. You’re a goddess among men.”

Allison chuckles. “Later.” She waves and gives him a brilliant smile before walking out, dragging her dad with her. Stiles waits until they disappear to pull the coat up to his face and breathe, smothering the smell of disinfectant with leather.

“That looks weird,” comes Derek’s grating voice. Stiles commends himself for not falling out of the bed.

“You were totally eavesdropping, weren’t you?” Stiles turns to look at Derek, who has sat up and is now inspecting the handcuffs on him.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Stiles sighs. “You sound terrible. You should have some water.”

Derek shrugs and shakes his wrists, the handcuffs clinking against the bed rails.

“Good point.” Stiles slowly sits up and tries to disentangle himself from the sensors on his chest. This looks serious. Was he in a state that warranted this kind of monitoring, or was it simply his dad being worried?

“They’re going to think you’re having another heart attack,” Derek says.

“Fine, I’ll call a nurse in. Happy?” Stiles reaches for the call button and presses it. It doesn’t take long for a female nurse to come in. She walks up to the bed, a polite smile on her face. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Please don’t tear them off yourself, Mr. Stilinski.” She reaches out to smooth out the cords of the sensors. He doesn’t miss the way her gaze pauses at the necklace. Her fingers linger on his chest and Stiles grabs her hand before she can touch the pendant.

He feels a familiar coldness from her. He tries not to flinch. Instead, he slowly pulls his hand back and gives her an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’m ticklish.”

She stares at him, bemused, her eyes focusing somewhere near his eyes in a way Stiles has come to know quite well by now. It makes his whole body tense up, waiting for her to do something.

At last she opens her mouth and says, “Of course. My apologies,” and then “What can I help you with?”

“Oh, I just want to stretch my legs a little. Can I take these off for a while?” Stiles smiles at her. “I’ll stay in this room if you’re worried.”

She looks at him carefully and throws Derek a glance with feigned nonchalance. Stiles looks at Derek from the corner of his eyes and finds that he’s sleeping, or rather, pretending to sleep. Stiles is pretty sure it’s the latter, which he has to admit is a smart move.

“All right, but please do be careful and don’t do anything strenuous.” She turns off the monitor and peels the sensors off his chest. Stiles tries to keep his breathing steady and he has mostly managed to do so, but he has no such luck with his heartbeat. At least he can blame the Adderall.

“Thank you.” Stiles sits up and pulls the coat up as casually as possible, covering his front. He looks her over and finds “Jennifer” written on her name tag. “Miss-?”

“Just call me Jennifer,” she says, a chilling smile on her face. “Ask for me if you need anything.”

Stiles swallows thickly. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She turns on her heel and walks out, stopping before she reaches the door. “I almost forgot to tell you,” she says, head half-turned to look at him sideways. “Your blood sample has been sent to the lab. You should have the results tomorrow.”

Stiles holds onto the bed rail and tries his best to give her a smile. She smirks at him before turning back and leaving. Stiles stares at her until she’s out of his sight.

“Shit,” he gets off the bed and goes to Derek’s side, holding the rails to stop himself from falling. He feels numb and his legs are weak. His heart beats too hard and too loud. It feels like it’s seconds from bursting out of his chest.

“Stiles,” Derek calls, straining his arm to touch Stiles’ finger, letting the handcuff cut into his flesh. Stiles takes a deep breath and moves his hand closer to stop Derek from hurting himself. They can’t stay here.

“Water,” Derek croaks. Unwilling to lose the connection of the touch, Stiles pours him a cup with only his right hand, spilling half of it, and drops the straw he’s used in it.

“Sorry, don’t have another.” He holds the cup before Derek and says, “She’s involved. It’s faint, but it feels the same.”

Derek takes the straw in with his tongue and starts sipping. Stiles is momentarily distracted by the thought that his saliva’s on the straw as well. Derek doesn’t seem to mind, though. At least he doesn’t think that his spit is poisonous or something. “And she knows I’m suspicious of her.”

Derek pulls off and nods. “She looks like she’s been in contact with dark magic.”

“Fuck, we need to get out of here.” Stiles puts the cup down and snatches the patient chart at the foot of the bed. There’s a paperclip on it. He bends it to his need and starts picking the locks of the handcuffs.

Derek’s eyebrows are threatening to disappear into his hair. Stiles glances at him and quirks his lips. “Got bored one day. There’s a shit load of tutorials on Youtube.” He pops open one and moves to work on the other. “Do you know what Youtube is?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Yes. I’m not a hermit.”

“Could have fooled me.” Stiles opens the other lock and takes the handcuffs off, shoving them into the pocket of the coat. Derek pulls his hands back and starts rubbing the red marks on his wrist. He nods at Stiles, which Stiles assumes is his way of saying thanks. “Is there a Way around here?”

“There’s one across from the front door.” Derek gets off the bed and looks out the door. He looks kind of funny in a hospital gown. Finally there’s something he doesn’t look good in. Well, as long as he doesn’t turn around. “But the police have my knife.”

“How did you get to the school so quickly then?”

Derek twists his lips and taps a finger on the bracelet. “Forced one open.”

Stiles winces. “Okay, last resort.” He opens the closet and tries to find something to wear, but there’s nothing. They’ll have to stay in their gowns. He slips into the coat and zips it. At least he has this. Derek has nothing to cover his naked rear end. “I’m pretty sure there’s an officer just outside this room. I’ll try to distract him?”

Derek frowns at him. “How do you plan to get out?”

“I’ll try to convince my dad?”

Derek’s frown grows deeper. “You’re not sure.”

Stiles scratches his head. “Well, he’s my dad.”

A beat of silence. “No.”

Stiles throws his hands up. “You have a better idea?”

Derek walks to the closet and stares at the mirror on the inside of the door. “Yes.” Then he breaks the mirror with his elbow.

“What the fuck-” Stiles stares at his bloody elbow, appalled. Derek just picks up a shard of glass, holds Stiles in front of him with an arm, and holds the shard near his neck, the tip teasing the skin. “Taking me hostage? That’s your brilliant plan?”

“Shut up,” Derek snaps. The door bursts open at that moment, revealing a deputy with his gun raised. Shit, it’s Deputy Donnelly. He’s always had a soft spot for Stiles. He won’t hesitate to shoot Derek if he gets the chance.

“Let him go, Derek Hale,” Donnelly demands. “You are making a mistake.”

“Drop your weapon,” Derek says levelly. “I may not be able to kill him, but I can do some permanent damage.”

Donnelly glares at him and takes a step forward. Derek tightens his grip and pushes the shard closer, breaking the skin. Stiles isn’t really scared that Derek will hurt him, but he winces reflexively.

“Sorry,” Derek whispers at his ear, warm breath tickling him.

“You don’t want to hurt him,” Donnelly says carefully.

“No, but we need to get out of here.”

“Let him go and I’ll let you go.”

Derek huffs. “Do I look stupid to you?”

“You’re doing something stupid.” Donnelly aims his gun lower. Stiles really hopes he doesn’t plan on shooting his leg to make him a deadweight or something. That would be bad.

“We’re not safe here.”

Donnelly narrows his eyes. “You’re the one threatening to hurt him.”

“If that’s what it takes to keep him alive.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

Derek quirks his lips humorlessly. “None of this would.”

Stiles isn’t sure what happens. Donnelly suddenly freezes and gasps in terror, his gun falling out of his hand. Derek’s already out the door and sprinting for the stairs, pulling Stiles by his wrist.

“What is-”

“Soulgaze,” Derek says simply, taking three steps at a time. Stiles has to concentrate on the stairs so that he won’t fall and crash into him.

“Why is he terrified?” Stiles says between gasps. He’s run much more the past few days than he has his whole life.

“He should be,” Derek says, his tone so casual it makes Stiles’ gut wrench. Stiles doesn’t believe him.

“Will he be able to forget?”

“Yes.”

They finally reach the ground floor. Derek suddenly sweeps him up and throws him onto his shoulder in one fluid motion. Stiles yelps and purposefully doesn’t look at Derek’s bare ass. “What the fuck, man.”

“Keeping up the pretense. Now shut up.”

And the fucker is still running, with him dangling on him like a sack of potatoes, actually, like he weighs even less than that. He sees people gaping at them and nurses frantically speaking into their phones. He sees Jennifer walking out of the elevator and staring at them with a dark look on her face. He sees Mrs. McCall bursting out of a room and she screams his name.

It’s all very dramatic. Stiles feels a little dizzy with the constant shaking and being upside down and repeatedly bumping his nose into Derek’s firm back.

“Where are you going?” Stiles asks, his words muffled by the fabric of the gown. Oh, right, they are still wearing gowns. They must look ridiculous. He really hopes they won’t make the headlines tomorrow. “Shouldn’t we wait for the nurse and follow her or something?”

“Too risky.” Derek shakes his head. “Not enough information.”

“Look at you, thinking before you act. I’m so proud of you.”

Derek pinches his arm. Stiles squeaks indignantly. “That’s harassment!”

“That’s your arm.”

“I have sensitive arms.”

Derek huffs. “Shut up. The police are coming. I’ll have to use the Way.”

“How do you even know?”

“I Listen.”

“Is that a capital ‘L’ ?”

Derek’s shoulders shake a little, like he’s silently laughing. Stiles can’t help but laugh with him. They are not in a Marvel movie. They are in an Edgar Wright movie. Everything is equal parts cruel and ridiculous.

Derek slows down as they approach the alley across from the hospital and whispers, “Aparturum.” His muscles contract as the bracelet glows and blood trickles down his arm. He steps in and drops Stiles down without warning. The portal closes up behind them.

“Ow, couldn’t you give me a heads up?” Stiles rubs at his hip. Derek grabs his arm and pulls him up to his feet.

“Hurry. We shouldn’t stay long.”

Stiles lets himself be led, running after Derek. Everything looks surreal around them. Things seem to be changing constantly and the air feels… emotional. He can feel the atmosphere changing as they run through the plane. There are a couple of blurry white beings wandering around where the hospital was.

He sees a familiar face and his heart stops.

“It’s not her.” Derek drags him forward without turning back, but knowing exactly what Stiles has seen nonetheless. “It’s memories.”

Stiles slows down involuntarily, his gaze firmly on her, the kind face, the soft smile, the slightly upturned nose, and the tired eyes. “But she looks-” exactly the same as the day he lost her, ill, exhausted, and already half-gone.

“This is not the world of afterlives.” Derek yanks his arm forcefully, his steps never stopping. “Believe me. I know.”

The pang of hurt coming from Derek makes him tear his eyes away. He lets out a shuddering breath and speeds up to keep pace with Derek, clutching Derek’s hand tightly. Derek holds his just as tight and it hurts a little, but it helps him focus, stopping him from turning back.

When Derek opens a portal again, spilling blood on the ground, he finds the ruins of the Hale house on the other side.

“Seriously? This will be the first place they come looking for us.”

Derek pushes him through the back door and closes it behind him. “They won’t be able to find the basement.”

Stiles stares at him as he taps the floor and the stairs leading down come out of fucking nowhere. “Last time we were here you were being chased by a giant scorpion.”

“Someone left a construct here. Most likely the same person who planted the heart. But he or she won’t be able to come down here.” Derek beckons him to follow him down. Stiles obliges with alarmingly little hesitation. If they were in a thriller this would be the part where Derek knocks him out and ties him up, but this is Derek; it’s pretty obvious now he doesn’t want Stiles dead.

“Huh,” Stiles says as they reach the basement. It’s remarkably more well-preserved and less burnt than it looks upstairs. There is a sagging mattress, which Stiles suspects Derek’s been using as a bed, loads of books scattered on the ground, and a giant circle made of some kind of metal at the center of the room. “Not as bad as I imagined.”

Derek doesn’t bother to answer. He opens a door and comes back with a first aid kit.

“You have a bathroom.”

Derek gives him an unimpressed look.

“Why didn’t you tell me to carry you here the other night then?”

Derek shrugs. “Didn’t want you here.”

“All right, past tense. That’s progress.” Stiles shakes his head and sighs. Derek and his trust issues. “If someone can plant the heart and the scorpion, why won’t they be able to come down here as well?”

“Another ward. This one can only be opened by me.” He sits down on the mattress and waves Stiles over.

“That’s… comforting.” Stiles sits down next to him. Derek grabs his chin and tips his head back, cleaning the cut on his neck roughly.

“Ow, be gentle, will you?” Stiles grumbles. It doesn’t really hurt that much, but he has to complain on principle.

Derek huffs and his touch becomes feather-light. It sends a thrill down his spine and makes his breath hitch.

Most of all, it tickles.

Stiles bursts into hysterical laughter and bats Derek’s hand away. Derek slaps his hand on his face and sighs heavily, but he looks more fond than annoyed. He cuffs the back of Stiles’ head and puts a Q-tip in Stiles hand, holding it to guide him to the wound, applying disinfectant.

“Huh.”

“My sister was ticklish,” Derek says, surprising both of them. He looks even more taken aback by his own honesty.

“Laura?” Stiles asks carefully.

Derek looks downward, his eyelashes shielding his eyes. “Younger sister.”

“Oh,” Stiles says, not quite sure what he should say. He knows this is a big deal for Derek. It seems only fair for him to give something back. “My mother used to do this when I got hurt. I’m seriously ticklish everywhere.”

Derek arches an eyebrow at him, a faint smile on his face.

“Oh, no, I’m going to regret telling you this, ain’t I?”

Derek quirks his lips and put a band-aid on the cut, and then he swiftly walks back into the bathroom to clean his blood-stained arm. Stiles is definitely not staring at the way his ass moves as he walks.

“Will you put some pants on first? That gown really doesn’t work in your favor.”

Derek smirks at him knowingly. Stiles scowls back.

“Yes, your ass is too much for my virgin brain to handle now. Put something on.”

Derek snorts, dries his arm, and fishes out a pair of jeans from a duffel bag. He pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a henley too, and throws them at Stiles; they land on his face. When he takes them off his head, Derek’s already put on the jeans. It’s like magic.

“Wait, you’re going commando? I am too?”

Derek pulls the gown off and throws it in the trash can. “I’m not lending you underwear.”

“What, afraid you’ll catch something?” Stiles considers going into the bathroom to change, but what the hell, he’s practically naked now anyway.

He turns his back to Derek, shrugs off the coat and tries to put on the sweatpants as quick as he can. He ends up tripping himself and falls face-first into the mattress. Derek chokes out a laugh behind him.

“Shut up. I’m gonna bill you for seeing my bony ass.” Stiles pulls the pants up and buries his face in the blanket, his cheeks so hot he could probably grill a steak on them. “What now? I can’t stay here forever. We need to find out more about her. I’ll need a-”

Something’s set beside his head. Stiles turns his head up and sees a laptop.

“You have a laptop,” Stiles says dumbly.

“You can stop being so surprised.”

Stiles presses the power button. It starts up without stutter. “It’s working.”

“Stiles,” Derek says, exasperated.

“It’s just surprising. Do you even have wifi here?” Stiles looks around. There is indeed a router just beside the mattress, the lights flickering. “You do.”

Derek knocks the back of Stiles’ head with his knuckles. Stiles spreads his hands in surrender. “All right, all right. You have a phone I can use?”

Derek drops a huge cellphone on his lap, with antenna and buttons, and the display is monochrome. “Don’t,” Derek warns.

“Touchy,” Stiles teases. He finds the number of the BH Hospital and calls. A man picks up and greets him, “Beacon Hill Hospital, how may I help you?”

“Hello, I’m looking for Jennifer. She’s a nurse,” Stiles says, lowering his voice.

“Tanner or Williams?”

“Oh, neither. Sorry, she must have quit or something. We haven’t talked for years. Sorry for wasting your time.”

“It’s okay. Have a nice day.”

“You too.”

Stiles hangs up the phone and starts searching for both Jennifers. Jennifer Tanner is a young nurse who’s apparently a badass in DOTA and has an epic love for stealth games and old school WRPG. Stiles might be in love.

Jennifer Williams has nothing on the internet.

“Williams it is,” Stiles mumbles. The good thing is now they have a name. The bad thing is it doesn’t really do shit for them. “Does the name Jennifer Williams ring any bells?” He turns to look at Derek, who’s now cleaning a revolver. Derek shakes his head.

“I need an epiphany,” he says to himself, staring at the homepage of Google.

The ground suddenly moves and he definitely doesn’t squeak. Derek’s dragging the mattress into the circle, with him on top of it. Muscles. Why does a wizard have this kind of physique? It doesn’t seem fair, having both magic and physical prowess. Stiles looks more like a wizard himself.

“Oh, you’re a battlemage,” Stiles says. It’s not the epiphany he’s hoping for.

Derek pauses. “Where did that come from?”

“My brain runs off on its own a lot.”

“Apparently,” Derek puts the mattress down and walks to the metal line. “Hold the laptop.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to break it.”

“Oh, right.” Stiles closes the laptop and shoves it into his shirt. The cool steel against his torso makes him shudder. “This enough?”

Derek nods and squeezes a drop of blood on the line. A circle snaps into existence. Stiles sets down the laptop and opens it. Still working. He types in Williams’ name again. There’s got to be something he can use.

Derek sits down next to him, the revolver laid beside him.

Beacon Hill Hospital doesn’t have a website. Their Jennifer doesn’t have anything on any social network. Stiles starts going through every employee he knows of, stalking them, trying to find something on her.

“You know, I really should let my dad know I’m fine,” Stiles says, switching between the dozens of tags he has opened.

“He’ll think I’m threatening you.” Derek lies down, facing the door way. “Or that you have Stockholm Syndrome.”

Stiles snorts. “Nightingale Effect plus Hero Worship plus Stockholm Syndrome. My therapist will be proud.” He finds pictures taken on Christmas eve last year. He starts going though them. “Seriously though, my dad will probably call in every agency he can if he thinks I’m in danger. And Scott’s gonna freak out.”

Derek shrugs. “You can try.”

“Good luck to me.” He finds a photo with Jennifer in the background. He crops it and uses Jennifer’s face to search. A college yearbook photo comes up. “Oh, good.”

Unless she has a twin sister with a different last name or a doppleganger who happens to major in nursing, Jennifer Williams used to be Diana Grant. “Know a Diana Grant?” he asks, searching for more information.

Derek props himself up on his elbows. “It’s… familiar.”

“Oh, she was in Beacon Hill High-” He stares at the article she wrote for the school newspaper. It was about the rising basketball star Peter Hale. He turns the screen toward Derek and watches as realization dawns on him and he clenches his jaw.

“Derek?” Stiles calls, watching him cautiously.

Derek snatches the laptop and types in something, fingers moving frantically. Stiles grabs his hand when the bracelet starts glowing faintly. Hot red anger and fear of equal intensity barge into him. Derek pulls his hand out immediately. Stiles can’t stop him even if he wants to.

“You’ll break the laptop,” Stiles says calmly.

Derek stares at the screen, eyes unfocused. Stiles puts his hand next to Derek, palm up, and waits. After couple seconds of loaded silence, Derek puts his hand on his.

Stiles watches as Derek looks through whatever he’s searching for, not daring to move, afraid that Derek will startle and pull away again. He has a million questions on his mind, but he isn’t sure how he’s supposed to even begin to ask.

A spike of fear jerks him out of his thoughts. He looks up and sees that Derek has stopped typing, eyes squeezed shut and lips pressed into a thin line. Stiles tentatively squeezes his hand a little. Derek lets out a deep breath in response and cracks his eyes open.

“Peter is my uncle,” Derek finally says, a faraway look in his eyes. “I burned him six years ago.”

Stiles simply nods. He heard about this from Chris and Kate. He obviously isn’t going to take Kate’s word as the truth. Chris has said it was self-defense, and that’s enough for him.

“He didn’t die right away.”

Stiles frowns at that. Derek throws him a brief glance.

“We faked his death and hid him because the council would execute him. Maybe we should have let them.”

Stiles opens his mouth, but he doesn’t know what to say. Tell him that it’s not true? Tell him he would have done the same?

“We hired a personal caregiver, Gregory Grant.”

Oh.

“That nurse is his daughter. I’d only heard her name once or twice.”

Stiles slowly moves himself to sit beside Derek, their joined hands between them.

“A year ago Gregory called and told us Peter died.” A pause. A rush of guilt. “Laura came back to deal with everything. I couldn’t.”

Stiles slips his fingers through Derek’s. “You said Peter ‘is’ your uncle.”

Derek tucks his legs to his chest and tips his head forward to rest on his knees. He looks oddly vulnerable like this. Stiles feels the urge to pull him into a hug, but settles for bumping their shoulders together.

“It’d explain everything,” Derek says into his knees. “We changed the lock of the wards, so only Laura and I know how to make the key, but we didn’t think to stop our family from going in. And he understands the triskelion more than both of us put together.”

“But you thought he was dead.”

“I didn’t see him myself. I should have, but I couldn’t.” He brings their joined hands on top of his knees and presses his forehead on them. “I couldn’t face that I’d murdered him.”

“It was self-defense,” Stiles says seriously.

“It’s the very same fire that killed my whole family.” Derek closes his eyes. “Born of life, but used to end life.”

“It doesn’t matter what you used, okay? Self-defense is self-defense.” Stiles raises their hands to tip Derek’s head up. Derek doesn’t look at him. “You used whatever was available to you at the time. It doesn’t matter if it was a knife, a gun, or magic.”

“It’s different.”

“No it’s not.”

Derek slowly disentangles their fingers and pulls away. Stiles lets him.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Derek says quietly and pushes himself up. “I’ll find him.”

And what? Stiles doesn’t ask. Instead, what he says is “Later. You need to rest now.”

Derek opens his mouth to protest, but Stiles interrupts him. “How do you plan on finding her? You can’t do magic properly right now.”

Derek purses his lips and stares at his hands.

“Just sleep for a while, okay?” Stiles pushes a pillow into his hands and moves to the edge of the mattress. “I’ll keep watch if that’ll make you feel better.”

Derek takes his revolver and inspects it before putting it away. “We’re safe here, but I need to be awake to maintain the circle.”

“There has to be another way.”

Derek is quiet for a while, bemused. “The necklace.”

Stiles takes it off and hands it to him. Derek doesn’t take it, but holds his hand and guides it to the metal line instead. The pendant starts glowing a warm orange. Stiles feels something vibrating inside him, not the flutter of his heart or the heat of his blood, but something hidden deep inside him, and it’s trying to break out.

Derek lets go of his hand and the feeling disappears. Stiles lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Should I leave this here?”

Derek nods and lies back on the mattress. “You should rest as well.”

Stiles eyes the way Derek takes up almost the whole mattress. It can’t be helped. The mattress isn’t meant for more than one person, and Derek’s not a small guy. “Yeah, I’ll just… stay here.” He sits on the floor and crosses his arms on the mattress, resting his head on his arms. The mattress isn’t high enough, so he has to bend down to the extent that he’s going to feel it tomorrow, but he’ll live.

A moment of silence, then -

“Good night.”

Stiles snaps his head up, his mouth falls open. Derek’s facing away, but Stiles can see the tips of his ears go pink.

He feels a grin growing so wide it makes his face numb and his heart swells in his chest.

“You too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being so late to update. Life happened.  
> Originally I planned to make them only starting to become friends at the end of this fic, but they just kind of went off and became friends without me. I keep trying to make their friendship develop slower, but it happened anyway. Why is it so hard.  
> And I've come to the conclusion that I'm incapable of writing assholes.


	8. Liar

Stiles wakes up with a start, heart pounding and eyes burning. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about, only that it was painful and terrifying. He reaches for the necklace reflexively and finds nothing on his neck. There’s a moment of panic before he sees the necklace lying on the floor and remembers what’s happened.

Derek stirs besides him, an arm draping over Stiles’ shoulder. Weird. He must have somehow climbed onto the mattress in his sleep. He carefully extracts himself from under Derek’s arm and sits up, staring at Derek, who’s still frowning even when he’s asleep. Stiles laughs silently, oddly charmed by the conflicting mixture of softened features and furrowed eyebrows.

Impulsively, he reaches out to smooth out the lines between Derek’s eyebrows. Derek grumbles and snatches his hand before he can pull it away.

“Laura?” Derek calls softly, half-asleep, warm affection flowing out of him. Stiles chokes and feels the prick of tears behind his eyelids. He pinches his nasal bridge and lets out a deep breath.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispers.

“Hm.” Derek lets go of his hand and rolls over to bury his face into the pillow.

“Fuck,” Stiles curses under his breath, tears welling up in his eyes. He wipes them away roughly with his sleeves. “Christ, I’m getting soft.”

He carefully gets off the mattress and takes the phone. What exactly should he tell his dad? He’s fine and sane? It’s in no way Stockholm Syndrome speaking?

Wait, his dad will be able to track where he is if he sends a text. His dad probably has people watching the Hale house anyway, but he doesn’t really want the whole police force coming to tear down the whole house just to find them. This will have to wait.

Stiles opens the laptop and starts searching for Diana and Gregory Grant. He finds his obituary. He passed away about a year ago, probably not long after Peter allegedly “died.” He was a doctor and used to own a clinic in Beacon Hill. Stiles writes the address down. It’s a start.

He pulls out every article of Diana’s he can find. She has another two about Peter, mostly praising words. The rest are about random topics like the absurdity of prom or the newly founded book club. He does find a pretty interesting one explaining how everything supernatural might actually be science that we just don’t understand yet. She left her contact information below for anyone interested in discussing this kind of thing with her. The email address leads to a bbs - jesus, he has never been on one before - to an IP address to a postal code. He sketches out the area.

The mattress shakes and bumps into his hip. Stiles yelps and swirls around to find a panicked-looking Derek, who lets out a sigh at the sight of him. He looks… relieved. Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. “What?”

Derek shakes his head. “Found anything?”

“The clinic Gregory owned and the general area Diana might have lived in and, if we are lucky, might still be living in.”

Derek blinks at him. “Good.”

Stiles smirks. “Impressed with my Google prowess?”

“Don’t push your luck,” Derek says, mouth quirked up. “Tell me. I’m going.”

“Oh, no, you are not leaving without me.” Stiles wiggles his finger at him. “I’m not giving you anything unless you take me.”

“Fine,” Derek sighs after a couple of seconds. “But you have to run when I tell you to.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles looks at him, unblinking. “Derek.”

Derek shakes his head and sighs again. “You will be the death of me.” He reaches for the necklace, breaking the circle, and then he puts the necklace on Stiles’ neck. He presses his lips on the pendant before letting it go and pulling away.

“Dude, did you just kiss it?” Stiles asks, face feeling hot.

“Don’t dude me.” Derek puts on a henley - does he own anything other than henleys? - and a leather jacket, and picks up the revolver. “Come on.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles shoves the phone into the pocket of the coat and follows Derek… to the closet. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

Derek shoots him a look before pushing the closet away, revealing a one-man-wide tunnel.

“This is so fucking cliche,” Stiles says. “Convenient but cliche.”

Derek snorts and pushes him in.

The tunnel is pitch black, but Derek seems to have no difficulty navigating through it. After tripping on his own foot and walking into a wall several times, Stiles swallows his pride and clings to Derek’s jacket like a little kid.

“Do you have night-vision or something?” Stiles asks.

“No.”

“How do you even-”

Derek stops abruptly. Stiles walks face-first into him.

“Ow.”

“We’re here.” Derek places his left foot and arm on one side of the tunnel and quickly places his other foot on the other side to keep himself up. He pushes the door on top of him open, holds onto the edge, and pulls himself up with ease.

Stiles gapes at him. “I can’t do that.”

Derek doesn’t even hesitate before saying “I know.”

“Hey, I might have been able to,” Stiles says, insulted.

Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

“Fuck off.”

Derek snorts, taking off his jacket and lowering it into the tunnel. “Hold on to this.”

Stiles looks at the jacket dubiously. “Won’t it break? I’m a lightweight, but not that light.”

“It won’t.”

“Uh, okay.” Stiles holds on to the jacket with both hands, keeping his arms close to his body. Derek starts pulling him up without warning. Stiles gasps and clings to the jacket tighter.

“Calm down,” Derek says, his left hand letting go of the jacket to hold onto Stiles’ arm. And then he yanks the jacket before quickly putting his right arm under his armpit to haul him up. Stiles swings his legs one at a time out of the hole.

“I’m not made for this,” Stiles says, panting. He blinks the haziness away and looks up. It’s still pretty dark out there. The sun hasn’t risen yet.

“Up,” Derek says, kicking his ribs lightly. Stiles shoves his foot away with all his strength, but Derek doesn’t even lose his balance. Freaking battlemage.

“Asshole,” Stiles mutters, getting to his feet. Derek’s waiting for him in his leather jacket on a bike by the road. Stiles can feel his blood struggling to decide whether to rush north or south. Stiles will prefer if neither happens. It will be really awkward to climb up behind Derek with a boner. And he doesn’t want to give Derek the satisfaction of seeing him blush.

“Do you really need to add to your dark and brooding image?” Stiles grumbles, shaking his head incredulously. ”You are so cliche it isn’t even funny anymore.”

Derek just throws him a helmet.

Stiles puts it on and gets on the bike. “Why don’t you have a handle or something?”

Derek shrugs and points at himself.

“I don’t put out on the first date,” Stiles says with fake disgust. Derek grunts his amusement and grabs his hands to put Stiles’ arms around his waist.

“You don’t have a helmet on,” Stiles reminds him.

“Don’t have another,” Derek says casually, starting the engine.

“That’s illegal.”

Derek gives him an arched eyebrow.

“I have to warn you on principle.” Stiles tries to keep some distance between their hips and tries not to focus on the heat coming from Derek’s torso. It’s all for nothing when Derek races through the road and makes a sharp turn. Stiles doesn’t have the presence of mind to keep them apart when he’s busy holding on Derek for dear life. He’s practically plastered onto Derek’s back in the end.

“Slow the fuck down,” he yells at Derek’s ear. “Are you trying to kill us both?”

“Direction,” Derek says instead of answering.

Stiles bites back the insult and starts navigating him to Gregory’s clinic. He gives up on resisting and locks his fingers on Derek’s abdomen, resting his head against Derek’s shoulder blades. He can feel the heat of the triskelion through the fabric, which is kind of unnatural since Derek’s wearing a leather jacket.

How much energy is stored inside of him?

He’s more than a little dizzy when they arrive at the clinic. He gets off the bike with great difficulty and a half-hard dick. Good thing he’s wearing a pair of over-sized sweatpants right now.

The clinic looks abandoned. The lawn is overgrown with weeds and the windows are covered with dirt. Stiles tries the door. It’s locked. He squats down to lift the potted plant up. There’s a key under it.

“Typical,” Stiles mutters, picks the key up, and tries the lock. It opens.

“Is it-?” Stiles asks, pointing at his own eyes.

“It’s clean,” Derek says without missing a beat. “Not suspiciously clean.”

Stiles slowly pushes the door open, looking around. The front desk is empty, but the door to the clinic room is ajar. Stiles tugs at Derek and points at the door. Derek closes his eyes.

“No one’s in there,” he whispers after reopening his eyes, but he raises his gun and shields Stiles with his left arm. Stiles huffs, annoyed, and pushes Derek’s arm down. Derek sighs, but doesn’t do it again.

Stiles smells the blood before he sees the body.

Behind the door, on the examination table, lies Jennifer Williams, her throat slit, blood pooling under her, staining her white shirt. Stiles breathes slowly and swallows down his urge to throw up. Derek strides across the room, standing over her.

“It was done by hand,” Derek says. “No magic involved.”

Stiles rubs his face roughly and takes a deep breath before joining Derek at the examination table.

The cut is clean, deep, and precise. She was standing by the examination table when she was killed, leaving an arterial spray of dried blood on the wall. There’s a photo in the pocket on her chest. Derek is just going to pull it out with a bare hand, probably not planning on returning it. Stiles stops him and uses a pen to nudge it out instead.

It’s a family photo with a man and a girl standing in front of a house. It looks vaguely familiar. Stiles tries to memorize every detail he can see.

“Why would he leave this?” Stiles asks. “It has to be on purpose. A trap?”

“I don’t know,” Derek says quietly. “But there’s no other lead. You know where it is?”

“Not exactly, but I have a general idea.” Stiles nudges the photo back into the pocket. “If we’re lucky, this house will be there.”

*

The car parked across from the house fucking explodes when they go past it. Derek somehow foresaw it and has made a turn before the explosion, but the bike still loses control. Derek twists around to hold Stiles and throws them onto the ground, landing on his back. Stiles hears a loud crack and then a crash. He turns to see the bike smashed into another car.

“Hello, nephew,” a man says as he saunters out of the house, a dagger in his hand. “You’re earlier than I expected.”

Derek sits up in front of Stiles, shielding him, his gun aiming at the man, his finger on the trigger. “Peter,” he says with a deceptively calm voice. “Why?”

“Why did I pretend to be dead, why did I kill all those people, or why did I try to kill you?” Peter plays with the dagger, a feral smile on his face. “You know the answer to all of the questions.”

“Do I?”

“If you’re honest with yourself.” Peter huffs out a laugh. “You have made a very interesting friend. I’m tempted to keep him for myself.”

“Sorry, I’m not for sale,” Stiles says, putting his hand in the pocket of the coat and dialing 911 without pulling the phone out. “Why did you want us here?”

“Oh, is it ‘us’ already?” Peter drawls. “You have fallen so deep in such a short time.”

Stiles twists his lips. “I’m a long-term kind of guy.”

Peter points the dagger at them. A bolt of lightning shoots out the tip with a flick of his hand. Derek whips his hand out and forms a barrier to shield them, clenching his teeth to stop himself from yelling in pain. Stiles barely stops himself from taking his hand.

“I see you still have the bracelet on.” Peter pulls the dagger back and the lightning stops. He watches with amused eyes as Stiles holds Derek’s bloody left hand in his. “You know, the council actually did me a favor. Laura wouldn’t have been so easy to kill if she hadn’t had it on.”

Derek pulls the trigger, breaths shallow. Peter deflects the bullet with a simple wave of his hand.

“Impulsive as always.” Peter chuckles, shaking his head. “You never learn, Derek.”

“Why did you kill Laura?” Derek asks shakily.

“I needed power. She was here.” Peter shrugs. “Don’t be impatient. I’m leaving you for last.”

Derek’s whole body tenses up. Stiles can feel his pain and overwhelming guilt. “It’s not your fault,” he whispers at Derek’s ear, tightening his grip. Peter lets out a harsh laugh.

“He was the one who let Kate Argent in,” Peter says with a cold smile. “Can you still say it’s not his fault?”

Derek goes still, his hand shaking, almost dropping the gun. Stiles pushes their right arms together and covers Derek’s right hand, holding the gun steady. “It is not his fault.”

Peter narrows his eyes at him. “You know nothing.”

“Funny, you’re not the first person to say that to me, and you’re not the first person to be wrong.” Stiles pulls the hammer back. “I know enough.” He aims at the fire hydrant beside Peter and fires. A jet of water shoots out, making Peter stagger with the force of it. Stiles pulls Derek up and starts running.

“Oh, I like you.” Peter laughs behind them. “I might even let Derek live if you give me your Name and blood.”

“I’m not stupid, dickhead,” Stiles yells at him. “And I don’t like you!”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the dagger coming, and he swirls around to shield Derek without thinking. The dagger cuts open the coat and digs into his right shoulder. He cries in pain and staggers. Derek catches him just in time.

His fear knocks the wind out of him.

Derek lets go of him, twists around, and extends his right arm. A stream of fire comes out of his palm and slams into Peter, catching the left side of his body. But then blood bursts out of Derek’s left wrist and the bracelet starts flashing violently. Derek collapses onto the ground, his body seizing up uncontrollably.

“You moron!” Stiles shouts and grabs Derek’s arm forcefully. He almost falls again when the pain hits him, but he forces himself to breathe. He has to keep going. They have to keep going.

He hears the sound of sirens approaching. “Come on.” He drags Derek into the woods, ignoring the burning pain from his shoulder and the sharp stabs coming from Derek. “You need to calm down, Derek. Breathe.”

Derek lets out a shuddering breath, his hand shaking.

“I’m not that fragile, okay?” Stiles says, turning around to face Derek. “I’m going to pass out now, you’re going to take me back, and I’m going to be okay. Understand?”

Derek nods stiffly.

“Good.” Stiles tries his best to give him a reassuring smile. “I trust you, man.”

He falls into Derek’s arms and passes out.

*

He wakes up when the dagger’s being pulled out. Terrible timing. He tries to hold still, but his body arches up on its own and he cries out. He feels someone else’s pain and the hands on his back flinch back like they’ve been burnt.

“Derek!” Chris yells. The hands are back on his left shoulder and lower back, but with a layer of blanket under them. They keep him down as Chris pulls the dagger out quickly. A sharp pain shoots from his shoulder and he gasps. Derek’s hands tremble briefly before pulling back.

“I’ll let you work,” Derek says, voice hoarse. And then there are footsteps walking away. Stiles twists his head back, trying to see him, but all he can see is the blurry edge of his wounded shoulder and the blood flooding out of it.

“Stay still,” Chris commands. Stiles turns back and buries his face in the mattress. Chris covers the wound with both his hands and starts muttering some medical jargon. Stiles only understands half of it. Something about scapula and gleno-whatever joint. A steady stream of energy flows into him and starts wrapping the pain in a blanket of heat, and the pain slowly quiets down. Stiles can feel his muscles relax and he melts into the mattress.

“That’s awesome,” he slurs. “Didn’t know you were a cleric.”

“I can’t really heal you,” Chris says. “I’m just stabilizing the injury and lessening the pain.”

“Magical morphine!” Stiles giggles. He knows he’s not on anything, but he feels drunk on the warmth. “Cool. Can you do that too, Derek?”

Derek doesn’t answer him. Stiles lifts his head, trying to find him, but he doesn’t see even a glimpse of that grumpy face. “Derek?” He reaches out blindly, pulling the muscles on his back and making him wince. He hears a footstep, but then it stops. Stiles can’t make out where it came from.

“Stop it,” Chris snaps. “I don’t care what the hell has happened between you two, but either you stop moving or I’ll knock you out.”

“Your bedside manner is terrible,” Stiles mumbles, laying his head down. “Thank you though, whatever you’re doing.” He turns his head to the side, squinting at Chris. “How did this happen?”

Chris starts wrapping his shoulder with gauze. “We found you in the preserve. Derek asked me to help you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

Chris ties up the bandages. “Watch him.”

“Watch who?” Stiles asks. “Oh, you’re not talking to me.”

“Back in a minute.” Chris walks toward the stairs. “Don’t move.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Stiles watches him go. He sits up immediately after Chris is out of sight. It still hurts to do so, but it’s manageable. He finally sees Derek, who’s standing in the far corner of the room leaning against the wall, half of his body hidden by a bookshelf.

“What’s wrong?”

Derek stays silent. He doesn’t look at Stiles. He doesn’t even acknowledge him. Stiles feels the urge to grabs his shoulder and shake some answers out of him, but his body feels heavy and it’s difficult enough for him to stand up.

“Derek, what the hell?” He wobbles toward him like a baby, or a penguin. “Why are you acting like this?”

Derek shuts his eyes and knocks his head against the wall once.

“Open your eyes and fucking tell me what’s going on.” Stiles continues his walk. The room is not that big, but it feels like he’s trying to reach freaking Mount Doom. “I’m getting anxious here. It’s going to get ugly.”

“Don’t,” Derek finally says.

“Don’t what?” He’s making pretty impressive progress in his journey and he estimates he will reach Mount Derek in about two minutes. “Use your words, Derek, or body language. I don’t care how, just talk to me.”

He can see emotions slowly fading out of Derek’s face and his body straightens into a stiff line. When he opens his eyes again, he has become more closed off than the Derek he first met, his eyes colder than he has ever seen them. Stiles stops dead on his tracks, suddenly afraid of what he’ll say.

“Get out of my life,” is what Derek says, and “You are a burden to me.”

Stiles feels his chest tighten and it suddenly gets really hard to breathe. “Why are you saying this?”

“What do you think you have been doing?” Derek says. “Helping? You have been throwing yourself at me, pretending you didn’t want anything in return, but you do, don’t you?”

“Don’t say anything you’ll regret,” Stiles mutters.

“What do you want?” Derek steps out of the corner, but doesn’t get any closer. “A kiss? A fuck? Do you want me to feel grateful? Do you want me to be in debt and feel compelled to repay you?”

“No!” Stiles yells. His heart is pounding against his chest like it wants to escape and somewhere deeper he can feel something threatening to burst out of him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking asshole?”

“I’m not your charity case,” Derek snarls. “Find someone else to boost your pathetic self-esteem.”

“You-” Stiles ignores the protests of his body and marches toward him, or tries to. His body feels too heavy to work properly, and every word out of Derek’s mouth falls with a leaden weight on him, dragging him down further. “You fucking-”

He trips on his own foot and falls over. Derek closes their distance with a few hasty strides and catches him with an arm around his waist, his other hand carefully supporting his head to stop a whiplash.

“Liar,” Stiles finishes, looking up at Derek.

Derek pulls away, keeping his hands beside his thighs. “I just want you to leave me alone.”

Stiles extends his hand. Derek’s fingers twitch. “Liar.”

“You are a burden.”

“Liar.”

“You are infuriating.”

Stiles pauses. “Well, that’s true, but you are too.”

Derek looks down, his eyes unfocused. “I don’t care about you.”

“Liar.”

“I don’t,” Derek says again.

“Who are you trying to convince?” Stiles asks, his hand still in the air.

Derek takes a step back. “You should have left.”

“Then you should have let me die.”

“That’s different.”

“Not much.” Stiles holds the necklace in his hand. “You would have died if I had left you. I would have died if you had left me.”

Derek slowly raises his hand, stopping a hair away from Stiles’. Stiles keeps his hand steady and doesn’t close the distance.

Derek slightly move his fingers, fingertips landing on Stiles’ palm.

“I understand,” Stiles says seriously.

Derek smiles wryly. “I really hope you don’t.”

“Too bad.” Stiles grins at him. “I’m a genius.”

Someone clears his throat. Stiles turns to see Scott standing at the foot of the stairs, a weird smile on his face. Chris is just behind him, frowning at him with clear disapproval. Allison’s arm in arm with her dad, her eyes red just like Scott’s.

“Um, hi.” Stiles waves his hand lamely. “Sorry?”

“Sit down or I swear to god I’ll leave your shoulder to rot,” Chris says, unimpressed.

Stiles slowly makes his way to the mattress. Derek swiftly grabs a chair and puts it behind him.

“Thanks,” Stiles mumbles, sitting down, looking at Chris with his head ducked down. “I don’t think it’s bleeding now.”

“It better stay that way.” Chris walks over to check his wound. “You’re lucky it didn’t break.” He looks over his shoulder to glare at Derek. “Go make a circle.”

Derek throws him a glance as an answer. “Necklace,” he says to Stiles. Stiles takes it off and puts it in his hand. Derek walks to the edge of the room and starts drawing a huge circle that almost fills the room. It is, as always, perfect.

“Fuck, man,” Scott says. He’s about to give him a hug but settles for a punch on his left arm under Chris’ warning look. “You scared the hell out of me.”

Allison stands beside Scott and reaches out to pinch Stiles’ cheek. “You made both of us cry, Stiles Stilinski. You’re going to pay for that.”

“Ow, Allison, that hurts.” Stiles whines, but does nothing to stop her. “I’m sorry. I was going to tell you guys I was fine, but stuff happened.”

“Stuff.” Allison raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “Eloquently put, Stiles.”

“You have such mastery of English, Allison. No wonder Scott is finally expanding his vocabulary.”

“Flattery won’t get you out of this.”

“Well.” Stiles turns his face slightly to the side.

“What?” Allison asks.

“If someone pinches one of your cheeks,” Stiles deadpans, ”turn to them the other also.”

Allison chuckles, shaking her head. “Idiot.” She pinches his other cheek as well and pulls his face into a smile. Scott laughs, rubbing his eyes.

“You’re grounded,” Scott says. “Forever.”

“You can’t ground me. You’re not my dad.”

“Sure I can,” Scott answers easily. “Speaking of which, I’m calling your dad.”

“Wait, no,” Stiles grabs his arm to stop him. “Not now.”

“He’s killing himself to find you, Stiles.” Scott furrows his eyebrows at him. “I’m not keeping this from him anymore.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Just tell him I’m fine, but not the other things.”

“You said it yourself, Stiles,” Allison says, her eyebrows knitted together. “You should tell him, or he’s going to find out in a worse way.”

“I’ll tell him everything when this mess is over, okay?”

“Why?” Scott asks. “He’s investigating the murders, right? Shouldn’t we-”

“She threatened to curse you, all right?” Stiles grabs Scott’s shoulder and shakes him a little. “I couldn’t stop them from going after you. I’m not having either of them going after him as well.”

Allison presses her lips together and lets out a long breath. Scott takes her hand and pulls her hand to his chest.

“Sorry, Allison,” Stiles says softly. “Shouldn’t bring that up.”

“It’s fine,” she says with a small smile, turning to Derek. “I should have said this sooner. I’m sorry for what my aunt has done to your family.”

Derek looks up at her silently from the other side of the circle, the necklace in his hand. He nods once and then puts the necklace on the line, pushing it down. His blood makes a splash. The necklace melts through the floor and starts glowing a faint blue.

“You’re not making a circle,” Stiles says, trying to stand up.

“What are you doing, Derek Hale?” Chris asks in a harsh tone, standing at the edge of the drawn circle. He reaches out and touches the invisible wall. “Explain yourself.”

Derek shrugs. “Doing what I have to do.”

“Fucking hell! You’re going after Peter on your own, aren’t you?” Stiles pushes himself up, shaking his head at Scott’s protest. Scott sighs and lets him walk over to Derek, staying a step behind him. Stiles punches the wall lightly and feels the wall fights back. “Fuck, not this again.”

“It’ll go down if I die,” Derek tells Chris. “I’ll make sure to take Peter with me, so you’ll only need to take care of Kate.” Derek glances at Stiles before looking back at Chris. “Keep them safe.”

“You can’t even do magic properly,” Stiles shouts at him. “You’re going to die.”

“I might,” Derek says simply. “The necklace will be open to be tied to someone else if I die. Have Scott use it to protect you. Chris will know how.”

“Don’t say it like it’s nothing.” Stiles knocks his forehead on the barrier. “There’s better way to solve this, you fucking martyr.”

“Stop hurting yourself,” Derek says, walking backward toward the stairs. “It’ll be fine. Everything will be back to normal.”

“No it won’t! What the fuck does normal even mean in your head?”

“Stay safe, Stiles.” Derek turns his back to him and starts walking up the stairs.

“Derek!” Stiles calls after him. “Don’t you dare!”

Derek stops half way and turns to look at him. He puts his right hand near his lips and moves it forward at him, a soft smile on his face. It looks almost like he’s blowing a kiss, but Stiles can’t find it in himself to laugh.

“Fucking thank me when you get back you fucking idiot!”

Derek is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've rewritten this part for like, five times or something.


	9. Soul

“Stop pacing,” Chris says from the other end of the room, squatting by the line to inspect the circle. “And don’t move your right arm.”

“I’ll stop when this damn thing is broken,” Stiles snaps, going through everything in the desk drawers and the shelf. He finds a radio scanner behind a stack of parchment. Who the hell still uses parchment? “Aren’t you the older wizard? Aren’t you supposed to be stronger than him and shit?”

“I can break it if I use enough raw power, but I’m not sure how strong the ward is.” Chris knocks on the barrier, adjusting his posture every time. “I need to make sure I break it the first time I try, or I might end up hurting all of you.”

Stiles turns on the radio scanner and starts searching for the frequency the police use. “Can’t you just make the strongest hit you’re capable of?”

“If that’s too much stronger than the ward, I might end up breaking the foundation of the house.” Chris keeps knocking every ten seconds or so, adjusting the strength of his fist accordingly. “And there’s the possibility that it won’t be enough. Then it’ll get deflected and end up killing us.”

“Fucking hell, his magic is suppressed.” He finds the frequency and turns the volume up. ”How is it possible for him to make a ward that strong?”

“He’s been saving up magic in that talisman.” The sound of his knock is getting louder and louder, and the recoil stronger. ”The talisman itself is a great focus for defensive magic. The pre-etched runes on it allow him to make a powerful ward with relatively little power.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” Stiles mutters, poking at the barrier, listening to the radio. Drunk driving, drunk biking, drunk loitering. It seems like everyone’s getting drunk tonight. “I assume it’s making this difficult to break.”

“It’s brilliant,” Chris says in a tone that sounds wistful, almost regretful. “And stronger than I expected.” He starts punching instead of knocking. The barrier ripples around his fist. “I think I got it, but you should still stay behind something.”

“Fire in the hole,” Stiles yells at Scott. Scott snaps out of his half-asleep state and falls off the chair. Allison manages to catch him before he hits the ground and she shoots Stiles an accusing stare. Stiles grimaces. “Sorry.”

Allison sighs. “Let’s flip the mattress.”

“That’s smart.” Stiles starts dragging the mattress to the side opposite of where Chris is. They flip the mattress and hold it up like a shield. “All set.”

“Be ready,” Chris says, pulling his right arm back and twisting his upper body clockwise. “Don’t stick your head out, you two idiots.” Scott and Stiles duck back. Chris clenches his fist and throws the punch, his arm shooting out at an inhuman speed, making a whizzing sound in the air. The barrier cracks where it connects with his fist and the crack starts spreading. Stiles’ triumphant cheer barely gets out of his mouth before the necklace glows and the barrier mends itself.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Stiles says, letting the mattress fall with a loud thump. “That’s cheating. That’s like finally beating the final boss only to find that he has a shit load of spare bodies.”

“He’s always been a genius in defensive magic.” Chris sighs. “Even if I exhaust the energy stored in the talisman, he can still recharge it through his tie to it. It’ll only cause him trouble to keep breaking it.”

Stiles kicks the barrier and stumbles backward. “Then what? We just wait for him to come back or the ward to break on its own because he fucking gets himself killed?”

Chris puts his hand flat on the barrier. “For now, yes.”

“Fuck.” Stiles knocks his head on the invisible wall. “I’m going to fucking kill him.” He looks down at the faint glow of the necklace. “Fuck his fucking guilt and hero complex and blaming himself for everything bad in the world and his tendency to unnecessarily sacrifice himself. Fuck your fucking Council fucking blaming him for defending himself and punishing him for the death of almost his entire family.”

Scott puts a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find a way, Stiles.”

“We better,” Stile grumbles. “Or I’m going to dig his body up and disfigure him before feeding him to the fucking mountain lions.”

“Stiles.” Allison puts her arm around his waist and rests her head on his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay.”

Stiles holds the radio to his ear. Theft, B&E, car accident. “I should have just fucking let him be killed by that damn scorpion. He obviously has a death wish. A lot of death wishes.” Vandalism, fight in a bar, another car accident.

“Why didn’t you?” Chris asks from somewhere closer behind him.

Stiles gives him a side-glance. “Are you seriously asking me that?” Trespassing, lost cat, a party that’s too loud.

“Yes,” Chris says. “You don’t have any concrete evidence that he’s not involved in the murders. Why do you trust him?”

“He’s a protector, not a killer, Mr. Argent.” Stiles lets out a long breath. “He’s been there for me when no one else has.”

Another DUI, another loud party, another theft.

“You want to repay him.”

Lost cat. Dog getting stuck in a tree. How the hell does a dog get up a tree.

“I want to be there for him because no one fucking is and he’s too self-loathing to realize he fucking deserves better.”

“Does he?”

A boy who’s trying to find his parents.

“Yes.”

A body found in the preserve.

Stiles punches the barrier and almost breaks his fingers.

“Stiles!” Allison holds his arm firmly. “The ward is still up. He’s still alive.”

“Something happened,” Stiles says, eyes wild. “You sure the ward will go down if he-?”

“He said so himself.” Chris bends down to check the necklace in the floor. “It makes sense.”

The body can’t be identified immediately because it’s been severely burnt. They aren’t even sure if it’s a man or a woman yet.

Stiles puts both his hands on the barrier. “Pushing doesn’t work,” he thinks aloud. “What about pulling?” He concentrates on the feel of the solid air against his hands. Why is this different from the curse? Why wouldn’t it flow into him? “What’s the point of being a magical sponge if I can’t do this?” He pushes and feels the ward push back. He focuses on the force pushing back at him and yanks it back.

He falls through the ward.

Chris stares at him, eyes wide. “How did you-”

Stiles cuts him off. “How do I break the ward from here?” Stiles falls to his knees and tries to dig the necklace out of the floor.

“It should break if the talisman is far enough away.”

“Christ, why do you have to have a marble floor in a basement? How did this even melt through it?” He holds onto the chain and yanks, but the chain breaks and the pendant doesn’t even move. “Fucking hell, do you have a chainsaw or something?”

“I do, but it won’t cut through the floor.”

Stiles drums his fingers on the pendant. “I might be able to stop the ward from being mended. Break it and get out fast.”

Chris nods. Stiles puts his hands on the pendant and focuses on the warmth. “Go on.”

Chris pulls his arm back before throwing the punch, his fist a blurred shadow in the air. Stiles feels the pendant heating up under his palms. He exhales slowly, pulling the magic into him.

It’s the kind of gentle warmth that feels more like a hot bath than a fire, slowing his heartbeat down to a relaxed rate.

Chris bursts through the crack he’s just made, effectively breaking the barrier. Scott and Allison jump out right after him. Stiles pulls his hands away and sees the barrier snap back into a perfect dome.

“You should all stay.” Chris says as he takes his sword and hangs it behind his back.

“Really, dad, you’re saying this now?” Allison bends down before a closet, pulls the bottom drawer out, and stands back up with a bow in her hand. A freaking longbow. She handles it like it’s an extension of her arm.

“Allison, remind me not to mess with you, ever.” Stiles grabs the torn coat and puts it on. He’s painfully aware of his own unarmed state now. He should have brought his bat or something. “Can you track him?” he asks Chris.

Chris nods, taking two stairs at a time. “The bracelet sends out a signal when he’s breaking through it.”

“Is he?” Stiles runs after him, trying to keep his right shoulder as still as possible.

“Yes.” Chris pushes the door open. “Has been for a while.” He stops in the front yard and raises his hand. A portal appears after he murmurs something in a language Stiles doesn’t even recognize.

“Fuck.” Stiles jumps in without hesitation, tapping his foot on the ground watching the others getting in.

“Stay close,” Chris says, pulling his sword out. “Don’t get ahead and don’t fall behind.”

They run. Stiles focuses his eyes on the ground, following Chris’s footsteps, ignoring the different emotions he’s been feeling along the way. It doesn’t take long for them to reach their destination. Chris stops and lifts his hand. An exit opens up to just across the back of the Hale house.

That’s when the fucking scorpion appears.

“Holy fuck why is this thing still moving?” Stiles shouts and pushes Scott out of the way. He almost got hit by its stinger.

“Get out of here!” Chris charges at the scorpion, blocking its attack with his sword. “Go!”

“Dad-”

“This is just a mindless construct, Allison.” Chris dodges the snapping claws easily and cuts one of them down. “It’ll only be a minute.”

Stiles hears Peter’s laugh, sharp and cold like a scalpel. 

“I’m going.”

“Stiles-”

He jumps out and runs to the front of the house. Derek’s kneeling on the ground, barely keeping himself up, his entire left arm dripping blood and his upper body covered by blood stains. Stiles throws himself to Derek’s side and put a hand on his neck. It’s too cold. He’s lost too much blood.

“Fuck, what were you thinking.” He curses under his breath. Peter looms over them with an amused smile.

“He can kill me if you let him die,” Peter says, his eyes glinting red for a brief second. “Easy, isn’t it?”

“Too bad. You should have done it sooner.” Stiles puts himself firmly before Derek. “Now I won’t allow it.”

“You are a loyal one, aren’t you?” Peter lifts his hand. A ball of fire starts taking shape over his palm. “What has he done to deserve your loyalty?”

“None of your business.” Stiles launches forward and snatches Peter’s left ankle, fingers digging into Peter’s skin.

He screams.

It’s acid, Peter’s rage. It burns but never dies out. Love and hatred have long lost their meanings and are merely fuel for his revenge. There’s something in him that’s vicious and foreign. It’s different, but inseparable from him. It craves power and power alone, and it will one day devour him whole.

“Stiles-” Derek croaks behind him.

“Oh, sorry, nephew, I see you do care about the boy.” Peter kneels down and puts his hand around Stiles’ neck. “I’ll make it quick then.”

An arrow cuts through the air and buries itself in Peter’s arm, pushing him away from Stiles. Peter pulls the arrow out without flinching.

“I see we have visitors.” Peter turns around to look in the direction the arrow came from. He whips his arm forward. The arrow shoots out of his hand at a speed that should only be possible with a bow. Allison tackles Scott to the ground, out of the tree they’ve been using for cover. The arrow goes right through the tree and burrows into the ground.

“I expected more from you, Allison Argent.” Peter looks at the bleeding wound on his arm like it’s just a little scratch. “Your aunt at least put up a fight.” He catches the next arrow easily and breaks it. “And isn’t this the boy who’s supposed to be mine?”

He puts his hand on his chest and the lines Derek drew on Scott’s body flare up through the shirt. Scott clenches his teeth and dig his nails into his palms.

“Why can’t you allow me a little fun, Derek?” Peter sighs. “We could have-” He collapses to the ground. “Ah, clever.”

“That-” Allison approaches him slowly, an arrow ready, “- is called a paralytic agent.”

Chris emerges with only a little scratch and stops behind Peter to twist his arm behind his back, pulling him up. “And you are under arrest.”

Stiles gets to his feet and holds Peter’s wrist just in case. “He’ll need a blood transfusion,” he says, lifting his chin in Derek’s direction. Scott and Allison walk to Derek’s side to help him up. Derek flinches away from Allison’s touch, but lets Scott support his weight. Allison purses her lips and picks his battered jacket up instead.

“I’m going to help him take Peter away,” Stiles tells Derek. “Will you be all right?”

Derek nods silently.

“You know what will happen if the Council has me, nephew,” Peter says. “You won’t be safe either.”

Derek wordlessly pulls his gun out. Peter grins at him.

“You know you want to kill me.”

“Will you shut up?” Stiles snaps. “You have done enough to him.”

“Have I?” Peter sneers. “What will he do if I kill you, I wonder?”

“Enough.” Chris yanks him back and starts dragging him toward the Way. Stiles follows closely, keeping his grip on Peter.

Snap! A twig breaks and he turns to look at the source of the sound. He finds his dad standing there with his gun raised, a mix of relief and anger and confusion on his face.

Stiles notices Peter’s eyes go completely red in his peripheral vision, but it’s too late when he opens his mouth to warn Chris.

“Chris-”

Peter’s elbow slams into Chris’s chest and sends him flying. He’s suddenly only a few inches away from his dad and twisting his hand back to stop him from pulling the trigger. His dad cries out in pain. Stiles sees red and tackles Peter, but he doesn’t fall. Instead, Peter laughs and grabs him by his neck, lifting him up. His claws - where the fuck did they come from - digging into his skin.

A gunshot, followed closely by two, goes off. Peter drops him and falls face first onto the ground. Stiles crawls to his dad’s side, coughing. His dad pulls him into his body with his uninjured hand and tilts his head to the side to examine the claw marks on his neck.

“Dad,” Stiles calls with an unsteady voice, his gaze fixed on the unnatural angle of his dad’s right hand. “Your hand.”

“I’ll be fine,” his dad says, picking his gun up with his left hand. “What the hell is going on here?”

He turns and sees Derek dropping the gun he’s just fired onto the ground. He shrugs Scott away and stumbles to his uncle’s side, eyes squeezed shut.

“Should have aimed for the head,” Peter says weakly, his head turned to the side. “You’re too soft, Derek.”

Derek shakes his head and buries his face into his hands.

“Your guilt is going to get you killed one day.” At that moment he sounds sane, almost caring. “Keep this safe for me.” He pulls Derek down by his neck and snakes his hand into Derek’s shirt, laying it on his shoulder blades. It all happens too fast for Stiles to react.

Peter’s hand falls, the bracelet starts flickering rapidly, and Derek starts to scream without making a sound.

“Fuck.” Stiles pulls away from his dad and drags himself to Derek’s side. He puts a hand on his arm, but nothing comes through. “Why isn’t it working?”

“Peter,” Derek gasps out, pulling away from him. He curls into himself and trembles violently. “Go away.”

“No.” Stiles yanks Derek’s shirt up and puts his hand on the glowing triskelion. It burns his palm, but still, nothing. “How do I help?”

“You can’t,” Chris says, standing up with Allison’s help, pointing his sword at Derek. “When he loses control-”

“You stay away from him!” Stiles puts himself between Chris and Derek, glaring at him. “What’s with you people and solving everything with murder?”

Chris takes a step closer. “Has to be done.”

“Stop,” his dad says, raising the gun, his right arm under his left to steady his hand. “I have no idea what the situation is, but I suggest you stay where you are.”

“You don’t understand.” Chris takes another step forward. Scott steps in before him.

“Please, Mr. Argent. There must be a way.”

“Peter sealed him off. He’s going to lose his mind and along with that, his control.”

“No, there has to be something, a loophole-” Stiles takes Derek’s face in his hands. “Soulgaze,” he mutters. “Of course.” He tilts Derek’s face up. Derek immediately shuts his eyes.

“Derek, open your damn eyes!”

“No,” he says, his voice barely audible. “Too much.”

“I have pulled Peter’s magic into me and it’s far from my limit.” Stiles shakes him a little. “Look at me.”

“No.”

“Derek-”

Derek shakes his head. “Too risky.”

“No it’s not. You’re fucking dying!”

“You’re strong,” Derek says between pained gasps. “You’ll be fine.”

“I will eventually, but it’ll hurt and it won’t go away,” Stiles shouts at him, and then he quiets down and whispers, “Don’t hurt me like that.”

Derek shudders.

“Please, Derek.”

Derek’s eyes flutter open. His gaze is unsteady, but finally settles on him. Their eyes meet.

He sees a boy that’s about the same age as he is, holding an orb of blue light in his arms, standing at the centre of a room made of ashes. He hears children screaming and crying around them. Men and women shouting names in broken voices. He sees shadows of fire and people banging on the doors and walls. He feels their desperation and fear.

The boy screams and shouts and sobs. The orb breaks into pieces as the shadows of people start falling one by one and turning into ashes. Then there’s only a man and a girl left standing. He walks out of the pile of ashes with the girl in one arm and a dagger in the other hand. He slits her throat before them. The boy screams and burns him alive with tears in his eyes.

There’s only a piece of the orb left in his hand. The boy holds onto it so hard that his hand is starting to bleed.

Derek, Stiles tries to say, but no sound comes out of his mouth. He tries to put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, but his hand goes directly through his body.

“Do you wish to help him?” a woman asks, gentle, but with a commanding presence. “What do you hope to gain?”

I just want him to be happy, Stiles thinks. I want to hear him laugh.

“Do you know what we are?” she asks. “Do you know what we are capable of?”

I know what he has done and what he does, Stiles says in his mind. And that’s enough for me.

He feels someone take his hand and put it on the boy’s palm, over the last piece of the blue orb. The piece glows and starts to slowly grow back.

“I’m here,” Stiles says.

The boy lifts his head to look him in the eyes, pulling his mouth into a smile, broken like a scar on the face, but beautiful in a way that takes his breath away.

The piece of the orb gives off a brilliant light and Stiles shuts his eyes reflexively. When he opens them again, Derek’s staring at him with a dazed look.

“Hi,” Stiles says.

“You idiot,” Derek slurs and falls unconscious into his arms. Stiles tightens his arms around him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against him.

“You okay?” his dad asks, hand gripping his shoulder. “Both of you.”

“Yeah, just tired.” Stiles looks around himself. Peter’s still dead on the ground. Allison’s disapproving glare is stopping her dad from moving. Scott’s helping Stiles’ dad bind his broken wrist. Stiles’ neck is still bleeding and he has Derek’s blood all over him. “We should all go to the hospital though.”

“I can’t control myself if-” Chris begins. Stiles cuts him off.

“Nope, you’re going. Just hold my hand like you’re scared of the doctors or something.”

Chris glares at him. Stiles glares back. Allison shows her support by pouting at his dad.

“Very well.” Chris sighs. “You brought this on yourself.”

*

Again, he might not have thought it through.

Chris is going to the hospital, so of course Allison will follow. He and his dad are both going to the hospital as well, so of course Scott won’t be able to stay behind this time. And because he’s so damn lucky, Allison started showing her potential a couple days ago, which means she can’t quite control herself around modern technologies, either.

That leads them to this: Chris and Allison each take one of his hands while he’s sitting in Scott’s laps with Scott’s face against the side of his neck. The deputy who’s driving them keeps giving them weird looks.

And then to this: Allison helps her dad walk while Stiles puts a hand on the back of their necks and Scott trails after him, a hand on his neck also. His dad and the deputy with Derek on his back stare at them.

Finally to this: He sits beside Chris’s bed holding his hand with Allison sitting next to him, her hand covering both their hands, and Scott sitting behind them, holding Stiles’ other hand.

It’s a little hard to explain to his dad without telling him all the background, and he’s a little fuzzy about the details as well. He tries to start from the beginning and chronologically tell his dad about everything. He’s having enough trouble wrapping his dad’s head around the fact that wizards are a thing that exists.

“Okay, magic exists, that I can deal with. But they are all wizards?”

“Why are you not bothered by the fact that magic exists but by the fact that there are magic users?”

“Because you use the word wizard and all I can think of is them flying around on broomsticks.”

Now his dad’s made him curious about if wizards can fly and how, but Chris and Derek are both still asleep. Actually, Scott and Allison are both asleep as well. Why aren’t he and his dad sleeping? His dad obviously needs it.

“I don’t think they do that? I mean, they have a portal thing that lets them travel around more quickly, but I haven’t seen any of them fly.” Stiles lies back and looks at Derek, who’s still frowning. “I feel like we’re getting off topic.”

His dad rubs his face tiredly. “So Kate Argent set the fire. Peter Hale used voodoo to murder everyone involved with Jennifer Williams’s help and then murdered her for some unknown reason. Derek tried to end everything by committing suicide, but you broke out with your unknown ability that no one understands.”

“Yeah.” Stiles pauses. “I’m impressed.”

“You should have told me from the start.” His dad looms over him and squeezes his left shoulder. “I’m your father.”

“How?” Stiles asks. “‘Hey dad, Derek’s dead uncle is actually alive and has been killing people with magic’?”

“How about ‘Derek didn’t kidnap me I’m fine don’t worry’?”

Stiles opens his mouth and then closes it. He can see the dark circles under his dad’s eyes. He knows his dad wouldn’t have been able to rest until he had found him. He would have done the same in his dad’s shoes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

“It’s my job, Stiles. And not knowing where you were, not knowing if you were still alive-” His dad takes a deep breath and then whispers, “It’s worse. Much worse.”

He understands. He really does. But if everything were to start over, he would still try to keep his dad out of the loop.

“I don’t want them to go after you.” He leans against his dad’s hand. “You can’t defend yourself against them.”

“And you can?” his dad asks harshly. “You almost died. What do you think it would do to me? What would it do to Scott?” His dad cups his face, the movement uncharacteristically gentle.

“I’m sorry.”

His dad lets out a long breath. “You should never have gotten involved.”

“That’s not fair,” Stiles says. “You can blame me for not telling you, but you can’t tell me not to help him.” Stiles looks straight into his dad’s eyes. “Other people are people too. You said that yourself.”

His dad stays silent for a while, and then his mouth quirks up a little. “I wish I had raised you into a less decent person.”

“That’s impossible.” Stiles smiles at him. “You’re a great man, dad. I have to at least be decent.”

His dad chuckles. It’s a little strained, but it’s there.

“You’re still grounded forever.”

“With no chance of parole?” Stiles bats his eyelashes at his dad. His dad snorts and pushes him away.

“No.”

“Not even if I make a burger for you? With bacon?”

His dad raises an eyebrow. “You’re trying to bribe the sheriff.”

“Is it working?”

His dad laughs. “No.”

“Sheriff Stilinski,” a deputy sticks his head in and says. “They asked for you at the station. Should I tell them you’re not available?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll be there.” His dad gives him an one-armed hug. “Don’t go anywhere, son.”

“How would I even go anywhere? I’m like, stuck in the middle of a really unfun orgy.”

His dad rolls his eyes at him. “Glad you haven’t changed a bit.”

Stiles grins. “I love you too, dad.”

His dad leaves with the deputy, leaving him alone with four sleeping people. He can’t move without waking somebody up. He can’t even use his hands without waking one of them up. It seems the only option he has is to sleep, so he lays his head on the edge of the bed.

That’s when he feels it, somewhere around his lower stomach, deeper than skin and flesh. A ball of energy, a concentration of heat- Oh god now he knows what Scott was talking about. He bends his neck and tries to look under his shirt, but he can’t see anything. And then he tries to pull his shirt up with his foot, but apparently yoga isn’t as easy as it looks like.

“What are you doing?” Derek asks incredulously. Stiles yelps and almost topples backward.

“Dude,” Stiles says accusingly. “Not cool.”

The sound of blanket rustling, and then footsteps, quiet and hesitant. Derek stands behind him, next to Scott, reaching over his shoulder to pull his shirt up.

There’s a triskelion spreading over his lower stomach, much bigger and more intricate than Scott’s, identical to the one on Derek’s shoulder blades.

“This is-”

Derek covers it with a warm hand and Stiles suddenly forgets how to breathe.

“Stiles,” Derek says by his ear, hot breath sending shivers down his spine. Stiles tilts his head back to look at Derek. He can’t quite decipher the conflicted look on Derek’s face. The emotions coming through his hand are a jumbled mess of conflicting signals.

“I know how to break the link.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris uses Greek to cast his spells. I don't really have a very good reason for this other than it's old.
> 
> I've rewritten the last couple of chapters for so many times I'm losing track of what I've written and what I haven't. This is like, the fifth version or something. So far I have about 55k words of deleted scenes, which is longer than the actual story. It's ridiculous.


	10. Link

“You’re brooding.”

“No I’m not.”

Stiles prods at the potato with his fork, poking holes into it. Scott saves the potato from his abuse and shoves it into Stiles’ mouth.

“I’m naught bloo-” Stiles crushes the potato and swallows it. “Dude, was that really necessary?”

“You’ve been sighing every five minutes and writing emo poetry instead of taking notes.” Scott snatches his coffee away and takes a gulp. “And this is your sixth cup of coffee.”

“I’m just trying to stay awake.” Stiles snatches the coffee back, holding it between his hands, feeling the heat. The mark on his stomach runs even hotter than this. It’s difficult to ignore. “And it’s not a poem. It’s an essay.”

“On what?”

“The similarity between Derek Hale and a Katy Perry song.”

“What.”

“ _He’s hot then he’s cold. He’s yes then he’s no-_ ”

Scott covers his mouth to muffle his singing. Stiles does the only thing he can think of - he licks Scott’s palm. Scott yelps and pulls his hand back, wiping his palm on Stiles’s shirt. “I don’t even know what you’re so upset about. I’m pretty happy about not having the tattoo.”

“I’m not upset. I’m just -” Stiles waves his hands around, trying to come up with an answer. “I want to understand what he’s thinking. I mean, I have some idea, but I thought -” Stiles thinks about the boy and the broken orb. Has he read something wrong? “I don’t know. I thought he’d accepted it.”

“Well, maybe he didn’t know this would happen?”

“But I knew what I was getting into, sort of.” Stiles dips his fork in the ketchup and starts doodling on the plate. The stick figure has suspiciously thick eyebrows and a downturned mouth. “Anyway, if he didn’t want to be tied to me he could just say it. I’m not going to stop him from breaking it if that’s what he wants.” He has no reason to, right? It’s not as if he’s getting anything out of this. Sure it’s warm and somehow makes him feel safe and less alone, and maybe he’s been sleeping better and feeling calmer, but he doesn’t need it or anything. “But he didn’t tell me shit.”

What Derek said instead was “Tell me _when_ you want to break it.” What is that even supposed to mean? Why did he assume that Stiles would want to break it? What did he think about it himself?

“I can’t ask him in person because he’s been avoiding me.” Stiles draws a dick and starts adding angry eyebrows on it. “And I can’t even annoy him into answering me with text messages or phone calls or email or whatever.”

Scott furrows his eyebrows. “How do you even know he’s avoiding you? He could be anywhere.”

Stiles shrugs. “I can kind of feel it when we’re close. He was there when I went to the house to yell at him.”

“Huh.” Scott snorts at the dickman on his plate and reflexively reaches into his pocket for his phone, but comes up with nothing. “I miss modern technology.”

“The old ones still work, I think.” Stiles takes a Nokia 3310 out of his pocket. “Wait, so this isn’t from you?”

“Um, no?”

“I thought you left this in my locker.” Stiles turns the phone over in his hand, trying to look for any sign indicating where it’s from. “There was even a charger and two spare batteries.” It can’t be from a secret admirer, because one, Stiles doesn’t have secret admirers, and two, a phone from the last decade isn’t really a good gift unless they know about this supernatural problem. “Can’t be Allison. She would get you one first. Can’t be my dad. He wouldn’t leave it in my locker.”

That leaves Derek and Chris. Probably Derek.

“Couldn’t he just give this to me himself?” Stiles grumbles. “And how did he even put this in my locker anyway?”

Scott shrugs. “Magic?”

Stiles shoves the phone back into his pocket and sighs. “Why does he have to be so confusing?”

“Who’s confusing?” Allison appears and sets her plate down next to Scott, whose entire face lights up at the sight of her. “And why does everyone think you are the Juliet to Derek’s Romeo?”

“Oh my god.” Stiles groans. He’s been getting weird looks and questions since he set foot on campus. Normally he’d have preferred this to being invisible, but the rumors have been getting more and more ridiculous. “My dad asked almost everyone if they had seen me or Derek, and then they just came to their own conclusions.”

“That you two ran away because your dad banned you from seeing each other.”

“That’s the most popular theory,” Scott says cheerfully. “My favorite one is that Derek is a vampire and is keeping Stiles as a food source.”

“Oh, you didn’t hear the one where we were soul mates and were magically married?” Stiles pauses. “Actually that one’s not so far from the truth.”

Allison takes a sip of her coffee. “So he’s been avoiding you because he expected a spiritual handshake but ended up getting married instead?”

Stiles chokes. “Scott!”

“You look sad! I was worried!”

“I’m not sad! We are not married!”

He may have shouted the last part a little too loudly. Almost everyone in the cafeteria is now staring at him. He ducks his head and kicks the chair Scott’s sitting on.

“We know, Stilinski,” two tables away Jackson says mockingly. “He’s way out of your league.”

“Why, Whittemore, are you interested?” Stiles quips back. “I can introduce you two. Oh, wait, no. I won’t subject anyone to your douchiness.”

Jackson shoots him a glare. Stiles calmly meets his eyes. It seems ridiculous to be intimidated by him after what he’s been through in the past couple of days. Jackson is all bark and no bite now. He’s like a particularly annoying and oversized chihuahua.

“I feel like I’ve grown as a person,” Stiles says to Scott. “I’m so proud of myself right now.”

“Dude, he’s gonna kill you in practice.”

“Can’t. Doctor’s orders.”

“Then he’s gonna kill me in practice.”

“He can certainly try,” Allison says with an eyebrow raised. Scott beams at her. Stiles winces as the lights above them starts flickering. He quickly puts a hand on Scott’s arm.

“Dude.”

“Sorry.” Scott smiles sheepishly. “I’m just, you know.”

Allison takes Stiles’ hand and leans in to kiss Scott. Stiles closes his eyes and leans back as far away as possible to give them more room. It’s getting awkward to be at the front seat of their PDA, and it’s getting really embarrassing when he gets assaulted by arousal from both sides.

“Please don’t use your tongues while you are using me as a vent, okay? Deal?” He feels the familiar heat of desire again and whines, “Guys, I’m popping a boner here. Please stop.”

Allison chuckles and pulls her hand back. Stiles cracks an eye open. They have now stopped eating each other’s faces, but Scott’s still grinning like a lunatic. This hand stays on then.

“I hate you two,” Stiles grumbles.

“Well then.” Allison grabs the salt shaker and screws the cap open. She pours out a generous amount of salt and sprinkles it around them to make a circle. It’s almost as perfect as Derek’s. What is it with Wizards and the ability to draw a circle anytime anywhere without any help? “You are a free man now, Stiles Stilinski.”

Scott giggles and brushes Allison’s hair back.

“I feel so used right now.” Stiles pokes at Scott’s rib. “You are both terrible friends. I’m out of here.”

Scott waves him away. Stiles flips him off for good measure before getting up and getting out of the cafeteria.

“Stilinski.”

It takes him a couple of seconds to process the fact that Lydia is talking to him.

“What? Me?”

She gives him a look like he’s that particularly slow cousin she never wants to deal with at a family reunion, and says, “Yes. There’s no other Stilinski in this entire town except for the Sheriff, and I sure as hell would make a better effort to look good in front of him.”

“Um,” Stiles says, very eloquently, because Lydia Martin is talking to him and he didn’t even know Lydia knew he existed. “Yes?”

“How do I find Derek Hale?”

Of course it has to have something to do with Derek. Everything and everyone in this town probably all have something to do with him. But the fucker himself is still MIA.

“Trust me, I want to find him more than anyone.” Funny how he can speak like a normal person in front of Lydia because he’s pissed at Derek. Maybe he should have thanked him. “I can, uh, tell him about you when I see him? Or tell you how to find him when I know where he is?”

Lydia looks him over from head to toe like she’s sizing him up. He feels naked under her evaluating gaze, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing considering the parties involved. “I’ll text you. This conversation never happened.”

“Wait how would you know -” Stiles stops himself. “Oh, because I’ll tell Allison.”

Lydia huffs. It seems that he’s passed some kind of test, barely. She turns on her high heels and walks away with perfect composure. Stiles can’t help but stare a little.

Okay, he’s definitely baking Derek his cookies, whether he wants them or not.

*

“Stilinski.”

“Mr. Argent.”

“Allison?”

“Scott’s practice.”

Chris stares at him for a while. “I’m not inviting you in,” he says, stepping to the side, which definitely looks like he’s letting him in.

“Is this some supernatural shit again?”

“An experiment.”

“That doesn’t sound very reassuring.” Stiles stands at the edge of the porch. “Is this going to hurt?”

“Not unless you’re a vampire.”

Right. Stiles steps in. He feels like he’s gone through a… membrane of some sort. It’s barely there and he doesn’t feel any different after that.

“Tada,” he says. “Did I pass the test?”

Chris turns away without saying anything and walks down the stairs. Stiles huffs and follows him to the basement. It looks pretty much the same. The circle is still there. The necklace is still in the floor. Even Derek’s blood hasn’t been cleaned off.

“Haven’t you come down here since then?”

Chris wordlessly shoves an angle grinder into his hand. Stiles sighs.

“Fine. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as humanly possible.”

It takes him exactly one hour and forty-three minutes to cut the floor open and dig the necklace out. He’s soaked in his own sweat when he’s finally done. Chris just… sits there and stares at him without saying anything. It was unnerving for the first thirty minutes, but then he was just too frustrated and annoyed to care about anything else.

“Fucking hell, what is your floor made of? Diamond?” Stiles wipes the sweat off his forehead and holds the pendant in his hand. It’s as warm as ever. Has Derek still been pouring magic into this? Or does it just store energy that well? It’d be a great hit in winter. They should mass-produce that.

“Did he give it to you?”

“Huh?” Stiles turns to him. “You mean this?” He raises the pendant. “Yeah, why?”

“Why did he give it to you?”

Stiles scratches his head. “He just told me it could prevent me from getting possessed and gave it to me? Well, he never said he was giving it to me because he never said shit, but he never asked me to return it either.”

Chris frowns. “Do you know how valuable it is?”

Where is this conversation even going. “Pretty sure it’s worth more than my liver, but not exactly.”

“A lot of people have been trying to get him to make them one, but he never did.”

“Okay,” Stiles says carefully. “Why are you telling me this?”

Chris leans back and stares at the ceiling.

“He had a retrial yesterday.”

“He _what_?”

Chris throws him a side-glance. “Retrial for his Doom of Damocles - his probation. He had a chance to take the suppressing device off, but he refused.”

“Wait,” Stiles shakes his head and walks up to him. “Just, go back a little bit. So his probation was ended or not?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s now connected to me. He can shove his excess power into me anytime.”

“I believe so.”

“Even if we’re not connected I can still take his magic if he’s about to lose control.”

“Probably.”

“Then why the fuck is that fucking bracelet still on him?”

Chris sighs. “He asked me not to tell the Council anything about you.”

Stiles stares at him. “Did he happen to mention why he wanted that?” Chris gives him a look. “Of course he fucking didn’t. What’s your best guess? Don’t say he wants to use me because you should know by now he’s not that kind of person, and I wouldn’t be going around the town yelling at him if he does.”

Chris rubs at his temple. “I think he wants to protect you.”

“Oh, great, and he couldn’t have talked to me first?” Stiles taps his foot on the floor. “And you just agreed to keep it a secret?”

Chris twists his lips into a humorless smile. “He only had to mention a name.”

Stiles stops to look at him. “Kate.”

“I couldn’t say there isn’t anyone in the Council that would try to exploit your… ability.” Chris sits up slowly. “It might be best to keep it known to as few beings as possible.”

“That choice of word is going to give me nightmares.” Stiles grumbles into his hands. “The fact that we are connected now should be enough to get that bracelet off, shouldn’t it?”

“Then you would be held responsible for everything he does in the future.”

Stiles stares at him. “Your Council has problems, serious problems.”

“As does every organization.”

“Yeah, but most don’t punish the victim for a crime their own member committed.”

Chris’s fingers go white from grabbing onto the armrests. Stiles sighs. “I know you can’t be blamed for what Kate did, but you can for what happened after that.” He looks down at Chris. “This is why you bring this up, isn’t it?”

“He’s at the age when talented wizards grow to be great,” Chris says. “It would be a shame to see his potential go to waste.”

“That’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Stiles says. “We should talk sometime. Use our words. Communicate, you know?”

Chris huffs. “He should be at his place.”

“Yeah, well.” Stiles walks toward the stairs. “I’m going to go yell at him some more. You’re welcome to join me.”

Chris waves his hand dismissively.

*

“Derek! We really need to talk!”

He stands in the front yard of the Hale house, yelling at the top of his lungs. The link they share thumps gently like a heartbeat, warmth circulating steadily between them.

“Come on, Derek! I heard the trial thing from Chris already. Your secret is out!”

He walks to the porch and cautiously reaches his hand through the doorframe. To his surprise he doesn’t get stopped this time. He goes into the living room.

“I know you’re here! Come out! Don’t make me burn this house down!”

He slaps himself.

“Oh my god I’m sorry. Please get your ass over here and I’ll let you punch me in the face? That’s a very rare opportunity. A lot of people have been wanting to do that. I’m letting you cut the line here.”

“Son, what are you doing?”

Stiles twists around. His dad is leaning against the doorframe, looking at him with clear disapproval. “Hey dad,” he says. “I came to talk to him?”

“I heard that.” His dad comes to his side and slaps the back of his head. “That’s for the fire remark. Now, how do you know he’s here?”

“Uh, just a feeling.”

His dad covers his forehead with a hand. “Right. Magic.” He lets out a sigh, and then says, “Derek, this is the Sheriff. I need to talk to you about your charges.”

A click. A door appears on the wall and Derek emerges from the stairs, dark rims around his bloodshot eyes, hair messy, clothes rumpled. He looks terrible, and his arm is dripping blood again.

“Holy shit what have you done to yourself this time?” Stiles rushes to him and takes his left hand, looking for any external wounds. There are none. “I fucking hate this bracelet. How did this happen?”

“Wait, what has the bracelet been doing to you?” his dad asks, staring at Derek. “You said it was just suppressing your magic.”

Stiles gapes at his dad. “You know about his trial as well? Am I the only one who didn’t?”

“Son, is the bracelet hurting him?”

“Yes,” Stiles says at the same time Derek says no. He growls and yanks at his arm with more force than strictly necessary. “It really fucking hurts. I’ve never given birth, but I imagine it hurts about as much as that.”

His dad frowns at Derek. “It suppresses your magic by torturing you?”

Derek shrugs.

“Not just that. They naturally radiate magic when they feel -” Derek elbows him in the ribs, glaring at him. Stiles glares back and flips him off. “-when they have intense emotions, good or bad, so it basically shocks him every time he feels anything strongly.”

“Derek,” his dad says in a warning tone that has become really familiar, maybe too familiar, to Stiles. “You should have told me.”

“It doesn’t change anything.” Derek pulls his hand out and pushes Stiles away. “They can’t find out about him.”

“What, I’m your dirty little secret now?” Stiles says. “Couldn’t you talk to me first? My weird ability has to be hidden, fine, but just let them know about the link.”

“Then you would be-”

“- held responsible for your actions, etc. etc., fucked-up Council shit. I know. I’ve heard.” Stiles folds his arms together. “Have you considered maybe I trust you enough to take the risk?”

Derek keeps silent for a couple seconds. “Have you considered maybe I want to break the link?”

It shouldn’t hurt this much, should it? It shouldn’t hurt at all. He has no right to keep the mark. It’s totally reasonable that Derek wouldn’t want to be connected to someone he’s known for less than two weeks.

“Then just break it,” Stiles snaps. “Why didn’t you just say so? Why say ’tell me when you want to break it.’ Why not just tell me the truth?” He’s horrified by the prick of tears he’s feeling behind his eyelids. What the fuck is happening to him? He’s being a drama queen. “You think I’m annoying. You want me to get the fuck away. You didn’t mean for this to happen and you don’t want me in your life. Just fucking say it and break the fucking link. Why do I care if you’re alive and well?”

Derek stares at him, stunned.

Fuck, he’s told himself he would let Derek decide what he wants with the mark. He’s told Scott the same.

Stiles takes a deep breath and then slowly exhales. “Forget what I just said. This should be your decision.” He takes a step back. His dad puts a hand on his shoulder. “Just forget it. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Derek purses his lips and stares at the ground.

His dad sighs. “We’re having dinner. Would you join us? I’ll tell you about the DA’s decisions. For both of you.”

Derek nods.

“Bring some clean clothes. I’m not having you at our dining table with blood on you.”

Derek wordlessly walks down the stairs and comes back up with a bag over his shoulder.

“Good. Let’s go then.”

The drive home is awkward, to put it mildly. He and Derek sit on opposite sides of the passenger seat with room for an elephant between them. Stiles stares out the window, kicking himself for what he just said minutes ago, and keeps stealing glances at Derek, trying to gauge his reaction, but he’s as confused as ever, if not more. Derek’s just sitting there with his eyes closed. The ever-present frown remains on his face.

“You two are giving me headaches,“ his dad says as he turns the radio on, filling the silence.

“I’m just thinking what we should have for dinner,” Stiles says.

“Yeah, right.” His dad snorts. “What are you thinking that makes you look like you just bit a lemon?”

“Well, lemon, duh.”

His dad rolls his eyes at him. “I get to decide our dinner today.”

“No you don’t. You only get to decide on your birthday.”

“There better be meat,” his dad says. “Or there will be blood.”

“You can get Derek to bleed for you, since he’s so keen on doing that.”

His dad stares at him through the mirror. “Stiles-”

Stiles holds his hands up. “Just stating the truth.”

His dad sighs, pulling into their garage.

Stiles decides to make lasagna with meatballs because he’s feeling generous and is in need of comfort food himself. He originally wanted to give Derek only a huge bowl of salad because he’s feeling vengeful; he decides against it in the end. The dude has lost way too much blood the past couple of days. He’s capable of being mature when he wants to.

“You both get deferred prosecution for the stunt you pulled in the hospital, since you were threatened by Williams. But you, Derek.” His dad points at Derek, who’s now wearing a henley without blood. “You are doing community service for your other attempts at resisting arrest and breaking out of the station.”

Derek simply nods.

“Which is why you’re coming to the station every morning from now on.”

Derek blinks at him.

“I have it on good authority you have abused your power as the sheriff,” Stiles says, peeking at the lasagna in the oven. “I’m impressed, dad.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” his dad says innocently. “Do you understand, Derek?”

“Yes, sir,” Derek says with a sigh.

“Good.” His dad nods to himself. “Stay the night. I’ll give you a lift tomorrow and tell you what you have to do on our way.”

“I-”

“Is there any reason that you can’t stay here? Be honest with me.”

“No,” Derek says, defeated. “I can stay for a night.”

The timer starts beeping. Stiles turns the oven off and retrieves the baking pan. His dad sets the table as Stiles brings their dinner out.

“Looks good, son,” his dad says, sitting across from Derek.

“Of course it does.” Stiles takes a seat between them. “Dig in, fellows. It’s sacrilegious to eat lasagna when it’s not hot enough to burn.”

He may have been staring at Derek when Derek’s taking his first bite. He can’t be blamed for wanting to see his reaction. It might not have been a very good idea though, because the way Derek’s face relaxed into a wistful smile does things to him, terrible, wonderful things. He can’t decide if he wants to hug him and cry for him, or kiss him and make him laugh more, not that kissing Derek would lead to Derek laughing. Laughing at him, maybe, or punching him in the face.

Derek, because he’s psychic and an asshole, looks up at him and catches him staring. Blushing, Stiles ducks his head and shoves a spoonful into his mouth, effectively burning his tongue and the inside of his mouth. Derek raises an eyebrow at him.

“ _Hwak you._ ” Stiles lets the chunk of lasagna fall out. His dad gets into the kitchen to pour a cup of water for him. Stiles accepts it gratefully and takes a gulp. “Shit, I think I just burned a layer of skin off.”

Derek shakes his head and drags his chair closer to Stiles.

“What?”

He sneaks his hand under Stiles’ shirt and covers the mark. Stiles definitely doesn’t squeak.

“Dude-”

The burning pain suddenly starts fading, and Derek starts wincing. It’s not obvious, but Stiles is getting pretty good at spotting Derek’s pain now. It’s all in the eyebrows. He grabs Derek’s hand and pulls it off.

“It’s enough. It’ll only make me feel worse if you’re hurting instead of me.”

“I thought your magic was suppressed,” his dad says.

“We’re connected. There’s a loophole.” Derek shrugs. “And it’s more of a mark thing.”

“Hey, so you can use magic through me, right?”

Derek shakes his head. “I can get magic in you, but I can’t get it out. No magic comes out of you.”

“There’s no way at all?”

“No.”

Stiles purses his lips. “Must be a way. I’ll find it. Then you can-” He’s reminded that Derek doesn’t want to stay connected to him. He stops dead and digs into his plate. “I mean, if you decide not to break the link. You can totally put the mark on other people and they will be able to let your magic out, I think, unlike me.”

“Stiles,” his dad says. “He never said he wanted to break it.”

“He did,” Stiles says defensively, “didn’t he?”

“He said ‘maybe.’”

Stiles blinks, and then he blinks again. “I thought he was being rhetorical.” He turns to Derek. “Weren’t you being rhetorical?”

Derek’s gaze darts between the two of them, and then settles down on his plate.

“Dead silence. What is that supposed to mean?”

Derek lets out a frustrated growl. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you want to break it?”

Derek resumes his silent eating without answering.

“Fine, don’t say a word. I don’t care.” He downs the rest of the lasagna and stands up. “You do the dishes. Don’t break anything.” He bends down to give his dad a brief hug. “Good night, dad.”

His dad gives him a weird look. “It’s eight o’clock.”

“I’m trying to live a healthier life.”

He runs up to his room and locks the door behind him.

*

Kate sits on his stomach, pinning him to the ground with a hand on his chest, her nails digging into his flesh. He struggles under her, kicking and screaming, but his limbs are bound and his mouth is gagged. He can’t move. He can’t stop her.

She smiles at him and snaps her fingers. Scott shuffles in with lifeless eyes, his face a cold hard mask, dragging a body bag behind him. He unzips the bag and pulls the body out. The face of the body has been peeled off, but Stiles will always recognize him. It doesn’t matter what’s left of him, Stiles will always know.

Dad! He tries to say. Get off! He squirms under her, trying to break free, the rope bites into his skin, burning. His tears start welling up in his eyes, blurring his view. She laughs on top of him, trailing her nail along the center of his chest, stopping just under his collar bones.

And then she slices him open.

He screams. She laughs even harder and shoves her hand into his open chest, gripping his heart in her hand.

Your real name, she mouths, tightening her grip.

Fuck you, he shouts silently back, tears streaking down his face.

“Stiles!”

He gets slapped in the face and abruptly sits up, his forehead knocking into Derek’s head.

“Aww, why’s your skull so thick?” He lies back, still feeling disoriented. He notices that A, Derek’s half-naked, B, he’s crying, and C, Derek has his hand raised like he’s going to slap him again. “What- I don’t-”

Derek grabs the  pendant Stiles left on the nightstand last night and lays it on Stiles’s chest. “You need to keep this on no matter what.”

“It’s just a nightmare,” he says weakly. He doesn’t believe himself. He’s had a lot of nightmares before, but none of them have been like this. He’s still feeling the phantom pain from the dream.

“Something’s trying to break you through your dream.” Derek takes his hand and puts it around the pendant. “Keep this on.”

Stiles covers his face with a hand and lets out a shuddering breath. “I thought this kind of shit was over.”

Derek twists his lips. “It never ends.” He points at the mark on Stiles’ stomach. “And this will only make it worse.”

Stiles narrows his eyes and pinches Derek’s nose.

“Not everything is about you, okay? I have a weird magical ability. I get targeted by weird magical beings. Period. The only thing that has anything to do with you is the fact that I’m still alive and still me.”

Derek blinks at him.

“If you can’t stand me, go on and break the link, push me away.” Stiles jabs his finger on Derek’s chest. “But this? This is not a valid reason. Being away from you doesn’t make me safer.”

“Some would disagree,” Derek says quietly.

“They’re idiots.” Stiles sits up and looks straight into Derek’s eyes. “Nothing turns into ashes because you touched it, Derek. It was all on Kate.”

Derek walks backward to the corner of the room, like he’s trying to disappear into the shadow. Stiles sighs.

“Just think about what you want, not what you think you have to do.” Stiles pauses. “That’s so zen I should put it on bookmarks and sell them.”

Derek quirks his lips upward a little.

“I’m not gonna just leave you alone because you break the link.” Stiles says. “I mean, I’d like to think we’re kind of friends now.” He extends his hand. “Am I wrong?”

Derek stares at his hand for a while before stepping out of the shadow and stopping before him. “I wouldn’t exactly use the word ‘friend’,” he deadpans and takes his hand.

“Asshole.” Stiles snorts, throwing his hand away. “Go back to sleep, dickhead. Thanks for waking me up.”

“...You too,” Derek says. “For everything.”

He’s halfway out of the door when Stiles realizes what he means by that.

“You said the T word! I mean you didn’t say it yourself, but I’m still proud of you.”

Derek shakes his head, smiling. Warm affection flows through their link and spreads through his body. Stiles can’t help but grin widely at him.

“Goodnight, Stiles.” Derek walks out, closing the door behind him.

“Goodnight- wait.” He stares at his door and remembers he locked his door, and Derek has broken the doorknob to get in. “You impulsive idiot!”

He laughs himself to sleep that night.

*

He wakes up with a post-it note stuck to his forehead. He takes it off and squints at the neat handwriting.

‘Thanks, sterculus.’

He proceeds to google what it means, and ends up laughing until his neighbor yells at him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "sterculus" means "little shit" in Latin.
> 
> So, um, this is the end of the first part of a potentially much longer series. I'm gonna start editing this thing, again, because it's just... not very well-written, to put it mildly. I won't be able to move on to the next story without doing that, so it'll be a while until I post anything.
> 
> About what's coming in this series: There might be an Allison-centric short story. And the next main story will be about Erica, Isaac, and Boyd, if things go according to the plan.
> 
> Thanks you all for spending time reading this story. I'm sorry for every mistakes I've ever made. I'm working on it and I hope I'd do better next time.


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